Heroes Volume 3: Villains
by Penman Specialist
Summary: Rated T just to be safe and for violence. Chapter Nine signifies a dark turn for the worse, as complications and threats grow. As new villains arise, and many old ones return, even the heroes question whether they'll suceed.
1. Vortex

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter One: Vortex 

Sylar: _People are social creatures. Why do we feel a need to interact? Some people believe it is best to act on the impulse of their heart and soul. Many misunderstand these people. But these people are special, and the fact that they are special draws them to power and purpose. They are all sucked into this vacuum of power, and all are drawn together. And only the sheer collective of them can truly change the world. However, whether this change is for good or evil is determined by those who are in control, and it must take a group decision to overrule these manipulators._

Peter Petrelli paces the cold tiles of the hospital floor in Odessa, Texas with desperation. He found it hard to believe that little over a year ago he was a mere intern in a hospital much like this. But like that hospital, the Peter of the past was so far away. Matt Parkman wasn't able to stop by, as he was readying a rental to go back to New York. Whether Peter was going was a different matter.

"Hey, Doc." Peter spoke almost wordlessly to the passing man. "How long?" He'd been in the field to long to ask 'How's it looking?'. He knew it'd be awhile, but depending on how serious Nathan's condition was, there might not be enough time to save him.

"It's looking like he has a week left in him. We stopped the blood and repaired the wound, but it's out pretty cold. It's up to his own body now, to see whether his system can fight off the internal. But as far as him waking up, we'll never know. It'll take thee days just to see how he's doing." The doctor delivered in a kind, understanding manner.

As the doctor walked off down the hall, Peter's thoughts turned to the killer. Matt said that he barely got a glimpse of him, but he had gotten enough to let the police sketch artist set up what looked likely to be a man. No man he knew would willingly shoot Nathan…unless Sylar was back. But that couldn't be. Hiro killed Sylar in Kirby Plaza.

Adam Monroe might, but to Peter it was too hard to think of him as a villain. God, it seemed every time Hiro vanished it caused someone trouble. But it wasn't his fault. Hiro, though annoying, was good hearted and after all, helped his brother realize who Adam was.

Matt stepped in silent and somber. One single key hung from a ring in his left hand. He stood there as soberly and confidently as he had stood down Sylar, and even Peter himself two days ago. Both felt bad that they couldn't even command him to wake up. "What'd they say?" Matt asked.

"It'll be a few days before they know." Peter hung his head and sat on the bench they had, Matt also moving to rest on the other end.

"Well, I have the car. I guess we should leave as possible. That killer could still be around, and there's no time to waste on saving Nathan." Matt's instincts as a cop urged him to leave, regardless of the emotion happening. And as a detective, he wondered as well how the Company managed to react so quickly.

"No, go ahead. I'll fly. I need a moment with Nathan…and some business to finish at Primatech." They shook hands, parted without words that were unneeded. They had their mission, and it was up to them to absolve another generation's sins.

Peter walked past some beds, sanitized his hands outside the door and touched it's cool metal handle despondently. He walked up to Nathan's prostrate form, gazed at the face of a leader. A leader who had once again found a calling to heed.

"Nate...I don't know what to say. You always make the right choice, in Kirby Plaza and when you helped me here. And I…I must've…although I didn't mean it…I…I must've caused you so much agony. I'm sorry. You are such a great leader, and we need you. Just know I'll do anything to protect my family, and to save you. That's…why we do this, isn't it? For our family, for forgive our parents, love each other, for you to save me just because." 

And with that said, he strode to the window. As he done in his apartment, oh so many times, he telekinetically lifted the window, and jumped.

Claire Bennett was frustrated. She knew it wasn't right to expose the Company so dramatically, but something had to be done. Her dad was only looking out for the best, but running from the Company or protected by them, she still had to suppress her powers. Except when they, of course, would come by whenever they dared and when her dad was in a good mood to get some blood. She didn't mind that part of it. She wanted to help people. But the Company didn't care about her, and might not even use her blood in the right way.

She walked through the campus that was Costa Verde somewhat at ease. She did have a friend or two on the cheerleading squad. And anything, right now, was better then home. As long she didn't run into West. She wanted to see him, however the Company, along with her meeting her counselor by force, had put her in different classes than him. She wanted to explain to him how right he was, that they could never expose themselves wide-open, but as far as how the heroes would be revealed, when and why she didn't know. She didn't even know how to take down the Company. She just knew that she loved West, and he was right.

It was 7th hour, and as the bell rung she picked up her bag and ran, abandoning her friend from cheerleading. She knew West had weight training last, and seeing as she had to head over to the field she thought she could see him then. And she did, but the crowd of people in Costa Verde seemed to separate them like the Red Sea.

She came out of practice feeling somewhat better. A cheerleader approached her. "Hey Claire. We're planning on catching a movie Friday, you want to come?"

As much as she wanted to, and however much she was enjoying it, she knew outside of supervised activities, she'd never have a life outside school. "Sorry, I've got a ton of homework for Bio, a project on regeneration in animals or something."

The sympathetic look she received almost made her feel good, in some sick way she felt needed. "Oh…ok then, see you tomorrow!" And she ran off to join the others while Claire hitched up the bag and as she did, swung it into someone.

"Sorry, uh…." She trailed off as she looked up into West's eyes.

"Hey Claire. How's it going?" He said as if it meant nothing, but he was still interested. Claire was still important to him, at least as a friend.

"Horrible. West, you were…" Her plead and revelation was cut short by a blaring horn. She looked to see her dad. And he was pretty sure he saw who she was with. _Shit. _West took off without a word and explanation of why he was there. She was almost whisked away in the thought that he flew in just now to see her, but was brought to reality by a softer beep of the same horn.

Just showed how her dad was. Meant the best, but wasn't quite doing it right now. Isn't that what he'd preach to that one guy who joined the Company for him? Not to be confused and drawn in by the Company's good intent?

She walked up and jumped in the front. If she was going to be picked up and thus couldn't drive, she wouldn't, at least, get in the back. "Hey dad." She said with a resigned smile.

"Hey Claire. How was your day?" She just stared back. And that was all Noah had seen since. He had always second-guessed himself. But he had no more contacts. Lord knows where the Haitian was. Claude was impossible to find, even if their…history…never happened. Mohinder was alienated as well. What power did he have anymore?

"Look, I know West is the only one besides us aware of the goings-on. But I won't have him eliminated." He tried to sound kind, but he was talking about having someone killed. That was nothing new. But to his daughter…. about her boyfriend….

"Great favor you're doing me." Claire sulked back, and sat right back up with vigor and pleading. "Dad, listen to us! Our life is never going to be normal when we're involved like this! We are talking about death almost casually!" She had a point. One he dreaded over each day. But this was his family, his choice.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I know West is a good person, and he'll do anything to protect you, just like me. But you can't stay involved or something else is bound to happen. You can be on the squad now, and know that you'll be here for at least as long as you're in high school." 

"It's still not normal." She gasped softly, murmured at the air in frustration.

Peter Petrelli stepped into a warehouse. One that was a symbol of parents' sin. That vault wasn't enough. He needed to wait, slowly, for the fire to come, and soon he went nuclear. And with an instantaneous cloud that sucked itself in as soon as it came out, it was all gone.

One man walked away from this rubble. He may have worn black garments with black hair, but he was definitely in the right. He cared little about some killer. He was powerful, and before he went to face them, he wanted the Company to be ready. Otherwise it would be no fun.

Matt Parkman walked into a lonely apartment. That damn Mohinder was too dedicated, to the wrong side. Oh well. He supposed that as long as he was doing this, one of them had to be around to take care of Molly.

He sifted through many miscellaneous papers the professor had strewn about, looking for the phonebook/list they had compiled. He needed to know where Peter was. He couldn't understand why he had stayed behind. There was no reason. Anyone who had any sense would run to New York. To save your brother and flee a killer…he may have a big power, but even Matt liked to take precautions as if he didn't. Would Peter really be that careless? And then, after a few minutes of absent thought and sifting through, he came across something.

A drab-looking company letter, but the word 'Bennett' raised a flag. It read "_We are pleased to announce that Noah Bennett has been re-activated into the Southwest District. Please note the resulting change in…_" Matt was shocked. The Bennett he knew was dedicated to bringing the Company down. In many ways, this current group of three was similar to the one he had a Kirby Plaza, only with Nathan as a leader and Peter as the loose cannon.

Instantly, his search intensified and he opened his cell phone, ready to contact Peter as soon as he found the number. He found it and dialed it as fast as he could. "Petrelli, it's Parkman. Where are you? "

"At the place that used to be Primatech." Peter's voice was all business.

"Used to be?" That must be a pretty dark path Peter was walking. Almost has if all that power caused him to go to absolutes with cleansing the world from the Company. _God, Parkman, even that sounded rash. You're just trying to fix the past._

"I'm on my way." Peter had no time for this.

Pete appeared ready to jet over here. _Good._ "Hold on, Pete. There's something you should know. Noah's back with the Company, and he and the family are Southwest. Some place called Costa Verde."

Peter obviously struggled to grasp the memory and name, but soon responded. "How…why…"

"I don't know. Anyway, it doesn't concern us yet. Just come over like you planned…and let's break into an office."

The man who was once Gabriel Grey strode through a dark hallway, masking himself in shadow. He alone, the ultimate of evolution. And once he destroyed the remaining traces of this cheerleader, and her herself, he would not be stopped.

He had lurked around the Company all day. Their security wasn't too difficult. Now, he was ready to step in to a room that contained hope. And destroy it.

"Hello, Mr. Grey." Bob Bishop was able to turn anything, including humans, to gold. But contacting Sylar with even a finger was dream. And thus the pistol in his hand was aimed point-blank at the temple of the largest threat to any hero, regardless of alliance.

"It's Sylar." He coolly stepped in, fully intent on getting past the alchemist.

"Naming you an angel is too inappropriate. I agree." Bob enticed the murderer on with his blunt, usual persuasive tone.

"Naming yourself like a holy man is misleading too." Sylar shot back, icy precipitate forming near-liquid spheres ready to engulf the man's body. 

"Let's not get tied up on specifics, Sylar." Bob was a man of business, and his tone was testament to such.

"Really? You want to know why I'm here? Simply to destroy the hope of mankind." Sylar, of course, cared little about mankind. But this Company controlled many heroes, and indeed was the center of all abilities. That's why he killed off Chandra. To save him from being sucked in by the Company's vortex.

"And I'm here to stop that." Bob gritted. Sylar laughed at the idea, chillingly ripping the air. 

"As if that will redeem you." Bob scoffed in disdain. The air tensed. Something had to break the silence soon. Conflict was on the horizon, and battle near inevitable. Bob wondered how fast Sylar could react telekinetically after shooting ice at him. Would the bullet get through?

"Nothing can redeem him, Sylar. Nor you." Peter walked in and stood there, in the doorway. He hid the shock at finding Sylar alive. He overcame the simplest trace of that in his voice. Sylar couldn't know his shock, or it'd be used against

Instantly Sylar aimed his ice at Peter. He was aware with his hearing. It took slightly longer for Peter to begin to wield some energy at Bob, and Bob's gun remained facing Sylar's temple. Peter's eyes were locked, however, on neither of them, but the shelf behind with only five vials of Claire's blood. The question in his mind was not how to get them, but how much was enough.

"Really, Peter? I'm becoming the best of the human race. Is that so wrong?" Sylar taunted his excuse of a challenge. Soon he'd possess so much, if he could just get to his brain.

"All you are is a villain." Peter managed to growl behind clenched teeth.

"I'm the villain, Petrelli? Think again. We take our minor little victories and triumphs, and they've been proven evil time and time again, but yet we still scamper back to this Company. They're sucking us all in and manipulating us for evil. Taking them down once and for all is the only way to destroy your wretched problems. I've learned that, Petrelli. Can you?" The doubt Sylar intended to spread melted across the hero's face.

Bob Bishop, however, decided that this fight had gone on too long. Everyone here was against the other two, but with that comment the tide had turned, and unlike the others, Bob planned on survival. He deftly flicked his gun with expert marksmanship, and the sound of shattering glass split the air as coolly as Sylar's laugh.

"Seems my job is done for me Petrelli. All that's left is the demise of you two. Good job, Bishop." Sylar said as Peter was thrown once more, bruised and bleeding out one eye, to the far end of the room.

"Ah, but we'll get more. You don't know how." Bob gritted, gun re-cocked and aimed as though he'd shoot right then.

"Ah, but I do Mr. Bishop. Where do you think I've been this last day? I want that blood, it's the only thing putting you so-called heroes in my way."

"You'll never get it." The rasp of a weak man was uttered out the corner, as Peter dragged himself to the window. But no one saw it; until at the last instant more shattered glass was heard. Light flooded in intensely, and for a second they could see Peter, healing his hand and eye, jumping out and flying away.

"Petrelli!" Sylar swore it as if a curse, and telekinetically threw Bob to the ground. "You're lucky, Bishop. I'll only ask you to step aside." He walked over Bob's limp, unconscious form and set out to Costa Verde.

In Costa Verde, a man landed. He stealthily moved about until he found where he wanted to be. He made his way to Claire's room, making use of invisibility and phasing. Claire almost jumped to see her uncle there. She did just that once she was sure.

"Hey Claire." He said, patting her on the back in their embrace.

"I'm so glad you're here." She hung onto him as if he was a lifejacket that could keep her above the tumult of the waves.

He extended his arms and held her shoulders, locking onto her eyes with sincere need and joy. "I am too. Claire…. I have an odd request. I need your blood."

She abruptly turned away, sat down and then fell so she was lying on her bed. "Fine. No one ever sees me as a person anyway."

Peter, hurt by this, sat down alongside her on the bed. She pulled herself up. "Listen, I know things in our family aren't normal, even without the powers. You're probably best away from it…"

"It'd be better then here." She interrupted softly.

"…But I promise you, I'll always have your best interest at heart. That's why no matter what you dad is doing, now…."

"What am I doing now?" Noah appeared in the doorway, his ever-present revolver on his waist and his hand quickly flying there.

"Certainly not destroying the Company." And the gun flew out. Peter wasn't nervous. He'd been in a much more tense standown today. But throw in love between these three, and this could be a very difficult one to get out of.

"Well, at least she's safe." With those words Bennet had just said fresh in mind, Pete proceeded cautiously on his next words, speaking them with power but earnestness. 

"At the cost of her comfort. TALK to your daughter, Noah. That night you gave me the privilege of your name is dead. You and I both know that without the Company, we could all go back to what might pass as normalcy. And as long as you're with them, you're the cold-hearted Mr. Bennett."

"She needs to be left alone, Peter." Bennet ignored with all his might the words coming out of Peter's mouth.

"Her blood is vital." 

"To taking down the Company?" Bennet couldn't have that. Change was hard, adapting was easy, but he'd gone through it so much lately.

"To save her father." Pete decided to throw in some emotional aspect. Maybe that steely Noah would realize something. Or Claire, now only helplessly looking on, would do something.

"I'M her father." Bennet said back. No one dared challenge him about that. Claire was his daughter.

"My brother, then. Her biological dad. Whatever. But he's our leader, taking down the Company, revealing what we can do." Claire made a start at this. She didn't want them to go about it that way! But he continued.

"And here you are, their agent." He remarked rather pointedly. 

"All I ever wanted was for my family to be safe." And with that a shot rang out, and with a close shave Peter deflected it, telekinetically, and let it drop softly to the ground. With that Peter began to move, slowly, so Bennett's gun wouldn't fire.

Determined and slowly getting out each word, he went on with the discussion. "At least I know now what side you're on. You own selfish side." And with a calmer gaze. "I love you, Claire. And as long you have an uncle, he'll try to make it better." He broke his second window, flew for the third time today and left.

And all they could do was look at the jet stream, thoughtful on the words of the empath. The family rushed up, but the two were wordless to explain it.

Gabriel Grey was on the highway. But this ugly means of transport would soon be no longer needed. How easy would it be, he mused, to kill a man in a coma?

One other person watched the goings-on from afar, maybe from too far, in the Bennett bushes. And took particular care to watch the end. West spoke to himself. "I thought I shot you. But no worries. You won't reveal me or Claire to anyone!"

Elle attended to Molly and kept an eye of the sleeping form of Maya while Mohinder left to get something at Mr. Mendez's loft. Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up, smirking as she saw the caller ID.

"Daddy?"

"Elle, dear. Please. Come back. Without you my life is dead. And recently, the Company has fallen."

With a smug glance at who lay on the bed and the girl who drew in her notebook nearby, she responded. "Fallen? Not yet, Daddy. I think I've found us a perfect weapon, and a compass to go with it."

END OF CHAPTER ONE

_Next, on Heroes. _

_A shot of Hiro, in a cave. "Adam Monroe?"_

_A shot of Claude, "Poor Victoria Pratt."_

_A shot of Ando, in his cubicle, on the phone. "A promotion?"_


	2. Overcome

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter Two: Overcome 

Arthur Petrelli: _I'm Arthur Petrelli. Codenamed Dallas, I served in Vietnam as a Captain Commander of a selected troop. I was cold as ice. Ever since high school I was popular, but in the strong and silent way. I had no charisma, merely a harsh will to succeed, and I was forced to verbalize it when my sheer dedication promoted me to find myself actually commanding others. _

_I came home to a wonderful wife, and soon realized that she, like my army friend Daniel, codenamed Austin, was special. I don't know how, but I felt they needed to meet each other. From thereon, we battled our battles and grew in size. Did I care about saving the world? Probably, I never thought on it. I may have been silent once, but at that time I was loudspoken, free-minded, and just as much a leader, only I seemed to have gained charisma and a will and drive to take it head-on, I became almost like the one who rallied us all I controlled no one, had little management power, and no special ability, but everyone respected headstrong Dallas. With these people at my back I was invincible. And then came a battle none of us were unscathed by…_

…_Afterwards, I withdrew. I'd like to think that at this time I still retained by heavy thinking, but I was in a shell like in junior high, when I was strong and silent but more because I was shy. Angela likely manipulated me: though always, of course, for the best. Only one event could help me realize the horrid truth of what Monroe and Linderman were. I'd like to think, though probably 3__rd__ in rank, my wife wasn't one of them. Or that far gone. That event brought back my spirit. And I became intimidating, almost unnatural in my confidence. And I vowed that somehow, if I could, I would aid the world still. _

Hiro rummaged around yet another part of the attic. Kimiko had left early, likely involving the legal transfer of the Company's ownership to her. As if she wasn't a busy enough CEO as it was. He had taken another sick day, and Ando, ready to leave soon, looked up silently at Hiro. "I'm sorry Hiro. You know how it must be. You saved the world, twice. Maybe it's time to jarr yourself back into reality." He silently strode down the attic stairs.

A rare somber moment for Ando, one that echoed Hiro's own thoughts. Hiro thought back and had to struggle to constantly remember why his dad couldn't be saved. Shouldn't be saved. Her also remembered his blessings: A good job, loyal friend, a kind family, and a house, not an apartment to visit when he came to see Kimiko, who would move into the family's house.

He absent-mindedly sifted through his father's belongings, the house that had been Kaito's and only Kaito's ever since Kimiko graduated. He ran out to where Ando strode towards the subway. "Ando! Wait up!" He was ready to move on. He would go to work today.

At the job, Hiro continued to maintain his slightly above average standard, checking miscellaneous websites for new comic information and such, when he heard a soft whisper from a slit in the cubicle. "Psst. Hiro."

"Yeah, I'm here." Hiro said, still typing, aware of the watchful eyes of several passerbies.

"If you were inheriting the business, you would promote me, right?" Ando said hopefully, trying to assure himself of his skill.

"Uh…. yeah. Someone would have to fill my job." Hiro was very matter-of-fact, though not unkind. 

"Then why are we stuck with Kimiko?" Ando sighed the exasperated sigh of five-year old.

"I'm not a management person, Ando." Hiro said, truly. He was the silent worker. A good one, but even if he was forced in charge, he couldn't do it. Could he?

"Nope, just someone who can warp time and space." Ando remarked sarcastically, setting head down on his desk in frustration.

"I'm your friend, Kimiko isn't."

"Hmmmmmm…." Ando immediately looked up thinking about what Hiro just said, and pretty soon had an idea.

Hiro took the subway out to the outskirts of town, where the wealthy lived in homes. Most of them weren't manors by American standard, but land was priceless in Japan. He began to think about

Going up to that attack again, with the new goal of sorting and not reminiscing, he slowly sifted through the objects that were his father's. A photo album his grandparents once had of Kaito's family. And then, the light glimmered off a leather knapsack. It was surprisingly well preserved and shiny, but old in design. But what caught his eye was the logo on the bag.

"Saiyo" (Godsend) He whispered softly. He touched it briefly. And it must've been all the emotions he had pent up inside him, because soon he was outside a cave where two bag, identical to the one he held now, lay.

UNKNOWN AMERICAN MOUNTAINS, SEPTEMBER 21, 1977

Hiro silently crept forward. He didn't why. A thirst for adventure, wondering if could he ever be normal again? A reason to see his dad again. But nonetheless he did, stepping into the water-eroded maw of the cave, he walked in. Ducking and bending around the tunnels, he could faintly hear his father's voice from around the bend, and steam came out like a sauna to combat the icy peak nearby. And there was another voice, with an accent all too familiar.

"Adam Monroe?" He wondered, creeping more carefully this time around, craning his head to see his father, appearing to battling no one, with his fists. Eventually, after awhile, his father sat down and out of nowhere, another man appeared. "Not Adam Monroe, at least." He reassured himself.

"Good, good. Thank you, Mr. Rains." Kaito swiped his forehead, adjusted his Saiyo-marked belt, and sat down. "Why are you training us again?" It seemed odd that a man not particularly powerful on even with a fighting based power trained the rest.

"Only because you know Mr. Monroe's weakness, and you don't know mine." Claude said with a mysterious air to the muscle mimic on the opposite side.

"Henry Fletcher, he speaks highly of you. We are glad you could train his empathy. But I do not see any merit in you beyond that. You vanish, hide like a coward." Kaito had heard that man's options were always fight or flight. But if Daniel Linderman was right, and the specials heeded a higher purpose and call as the advanced in evolution, any evolved with a sense of pride and honor would fight and uphold the ideals of the Company.

"Sticks and stones, mate. Call me what you will, but your frustration at not finding me with your attacks certainly improved them, honed them. I am trained in combat thought, and that is why you won." Kaito was silent in thought about those words.

"For that I owe you." It was all he could say as he pulled out a canteen to rehydrate.

"I guess. I am no part of your schism. I'm just waiting to be assigned to a partner." Claude shrugged as he packed his knapsack and shrugged it onto his shoulders.

"There is no schism!" Kaito stood with anger.

"Forgive me, sir. But you and Charlie have yours, Adam and Daniel theirs. You know it. You can't say you're united with your Group and Society splitting the middle. Poor Victoria Pratt. Has to moderate you all. The stress of being the decision vote... I wouldn't be surprised if you drive her into hermitage." At this comment, Hiro noted, Claude touched his jacket's inner pockets and a piece of paper accidentally fell.

"My group is trying to amend our evils, operate morally, and still save the world." Kaito was silent, adamant that his group was on the right path. "Thanks for the spar."

"Mr. Rains!" A voice rang out, genuinely pleased to see the saucy Brit. Hiro, hiding behind a rock in the hallway where the man had come in, wondered why.

Claude replied respectfully back in the same manner. "Hello Mr. Deveaux, I was just leaving. I wish you luck, chum" and here he spoke to Kaito. "On your 'non-schism'." And with that Claude Rains strode out of the room.

Taken aback, Kaito addressed Charles with his anger and instinct. "Why do you tolerate that sarcastic dog?"

"Lighten up, Kaito. Try being happy and relaxed. Your belt is too tight with honor." Charles grinned as he surveyed the small training room.

"I am flawed." Kaito bowed his head, somewhat sobered from his rash comeback.

"As am I, friend. I can only guide dreams." Charles thought as he sat down on a boulder.

"I'm sure there is more. Prod the dreams into heart attacks to kill, live on forever through dreams..." Kaito earnestly pleaded as he ducked below a jagged stalactite. 

"Pardon the pun, but that's the dream." Charles laughed as he saw Kaito duck and tried to lighten the mood. "But you won't have to keep up with Claude anymore." 

"Pardon?" Charles tried to suppress a chuckle. Kaito was slightly annoyed. He was aware of the irony and humor, that he was upset at Claude yet used a British expression. But it got on his nerves. At least it all came out of the genuine love for his companions. He was surprised that Deveaux wasn't an empath, but maybe that love was what drew Fletcher to the Society, the fact that they were more kind and free-minded.

_Except me,_ Kaito thought. _You're just moral. That's all you have in common. You, still rigid with your honor and code. You might've even sided with the Linderman Group if not for seeing through Adam. _He shoved that thought out of mind. He listened to what Mr. Deveaux had to say.

"We're going to assign him to Primatech. The Linderman Group has control over that sector with that young guy, Thompson. But he's a meddler we can do without. Put him there, with his roguish ways, and perhaps we could find a partner to assign him to in the future, develop a small group in Odessa who REALLY controls that sector. It'll be a waiting game, but..."

"Yes, yes. Under the guise of disciplining him, we can do that. The Group and the Society both think they have utter control in there, and we can begin to worm our way into influencing there as well." Kaito saw the wisdom in that action. Having renewed his vigor and calming down, he clapped his hand the Charles's shoulder and they walked out.

"You know you are our visionary, Charles. That is why w are the Deveaux Society."

"And I'm flattered. I do believe we will improve the world. We can repent and move on…." And their voices trailed off.

Hiro bent over to pick up the piece of paper. "A schism? My dad?" He wondered. He needed to know more about this Company, and who of them were truly good. And understand his dad's emotion. So, he then read the slip of paper. On the outside it said _**Dated 21**__**st**__** of May 1977. **_After reading it, he spoke "Victoria Pratt, here I come."

CORINTHIAN CASION AND HOTEL, SEPTEMBER 21ST1977

At the same time, the Linderman Group gathered at one of the conference rooms of the Corinthian Hotel. Adam Monroe, Arthur and Angela Petrelli, Daniel Linderman, Maury Parkman, and Bob Bishop gathered to discuss a very interesting idea.

"Even though she is part of the Society, we are all one Company. And based on Mr. Rain's successful use of combat thought to train some of us without having a superior or similar power, Mrs. Gramble has proposed a theory of collective aid, which is a way of helping, or utilizing someone else's power through natural human means." Adam opened with the first order of business.

"I have reason to believe that we can learn to project our thoughts to Mr. Parkman, and he could relay thoughts to anyone else in the immediate area, thus aiding communication on missions and when we are all occupied in inter-related tasks." Angela continued as the unofficial head of this theory, with Gramble. All of them had tasks. Arthur's were mainly legal, and along with Pratt and Fletcher, Bishop began working on the biological weapon recently. Linderman and Nakamura did most of the financial end...and so on.

"This is too risky, Adam. It seems wrong to perfect this only within the Group." Maury voiced his concern.

"I'm not the one that left my wife and son. I don't invade other's privacy. Who are to speak of morals?" Adam coldly shot back.

"True." Maury resigned. _You left them, you horrible man. You are guilty, so guilty that you don't deserve to stand in this room with them. You must obey them, because you'll always be beneath them. You'll never be redeemed, Parkman._

"Arthur, would you also participate in the first trial?" He asked the only non-hero there.

"Sorry Adam, but no. I pass." Arthur pleasantly declined.

"Mr. Parkman can always rip it out of you." Adam said with an icy tone, in his calm yet threatening manner, letting those words hang. And the room was silenced.

"Adam, if I may?" Linderman asked.

"Go ahead, Daniel." Adam encouraged him to go on.

"I know you've all heard the whole life of purpose vs. life of happiness all too often…" Daniel began, apologizing. A rare thing for him, a man who was usually jovial, yes, but also confidant.

"Nonsense. We love to hear your vision, how you turned my primitive wants and thoughts into an ideology and group, it a unique gift and it is a blessing to us all. That IS why we are the Linderman Group." Adam made an attempt to make a good speech, and for once it worked. Like h insinuated, he was a leader, but a simple man with only simple words and thoughts.

"Why thank you. But Arthur, you are jovial more humble, lifelike and less arrogant and confident then many of us. But all of us here have chosen a life of purpose. I've seen you be hard in the way. Don't be afraid now. Dallas." The poignant, purposeful placement of his nickname/codename of the war was evident.

"Aye, but WAR was hard. You must be hard-hearted to kill anyone. I don't believe that is evil, in that circumstance. Otherwise, it is an unneeded characteristic. That is why I am no longer who I am." Dallas gritted out, full of emotion and floundering for words.

His wife found them. "Does it really matter? You are turning my husband's plain refusal into an inferiority complex, and I don't appreciate it. Arthur is simply more complex individual then you will ever know, and you know that at his best he could do much more then some of us with our powers with his mere hands and will." Angela piercingly accused Adam and guilt-tripped the rest.

"I will volunteer myself, if I may." Bob Bishop said, never the one to cause trouble and always volunteering if it meant they reached their objectives faster. Though this was not to say he didn't have a cold edge. He knew what he believed and went toe-to-toe with the Deveaux Society just as much any other member. Many doubted if he'd ever be a father, he was so practical, and when he was kind, it was a companion, not a friend.

"And I have to go. My firm is handling an outside client, and I would like to be there before we start slitting our wrists and trying to 'aid' Austin." He referred to Daniel's war nickname. Mr. Petrelli's burlesque form walked out of the room abruptly.

"I suggest you talk with him. Angela." Remarked Daniel kindly. Their like-mindedness had bonded the two almost as close as her husband had with him during the war.

"Indeed. We have much to discuss." Angela sat, face blank. Much indeed.

"Arthur, how could you do that? I know you aren't feeling as great of a man as you were…."

"It's not what I feel, Angela. I AM not who I was. Not a leader. You, Daniel, Adam, Kaito, and Charles are leaders. Not an Army Commander, for sure. Not an enforcer, they have Henry and Maury for that. Not even a district attorney, or mayor, or whatever I want to be politically. This Company has destroyed my soul."

And at that, the Petrellis sat down on the couch of their Manhattan loft. Little did they know that 2 years from now they'd have their second kid, roughly one year apart from their first. Things would be different then. But for now, there was a determined woman and a broken man.

"Arthur, there's stuff I didn't tell them." Angela said, simply, out of the blue. She closed her lips as if she never said it, looking away and swinging her legs to the side. But she said it.

"Like what?"

"I think…this could also be used to protect us. I know for one that **I **don't want Maury digging in my brain. If we can shut him out or project false things, we could maintain our sanity." Angela explained.

"Something I've been wanting to do for a long time." He remarked half-jokingly. But there was a serious tone in the room, and he quickly rose. "I'm sorry." He wasn't broken, though. He didn't repeat it. It was simple, in a silent manner and sincere. He was back. Halfway there, at least. Like the popular man in high school, not yet the invincible warrior.

"I understand you must be ecstatic that you as a non-hero could do a little something." And seeing his downtrodden face, she reached her hand to comfort him. "And you know I don't mean it like that. But we must train this. It will be hard."

And so they did. Angela used her hypnosis to try and influence Arthur in a similar but different manner than Parkman's, and Arthur used various sounds and senses to try and distract her. Soon, they thought themselves ready but they never knew. The Group got along great, and Henry was too kind use Maury's power on either of them. But what everyone noticed was a gleam in Arthur's eyes.

Soon he was assigned to a mission. A woman, Sherri Caldwell, was planning on turning a mild rain in Key Largo into an utter snowstorm to 'punish' Florida for their many problems during election season. The Company learned she was a radical and her political beliefs coupled with her power to push her to extremes on many issues, even starting brush fires near houses of Hollywood celebrities and such.

Daniel Linderman briefed Arthur, and as Mr. Petrelli left, he said to him four words that meant so much. "Go get her, Dallas."

Dallas Petrelli never thought he'd have to pack a parka to go to the tropics. But that's what he did. Sure, tourists gave him strange looks. But he had the address. And the clouds were already swinging towards Miami. And he moved fast, almost speeding. He was in control behind the wheel, now. Full control.

He knocked warily on the door, syringe and pistol ready. "Ms. Caldwell?" He asked. A figure flashed across the back lawn, he moved cautiously there to see her, lifted and propelled by a sudden gust of wind, four blocks over. He ran to his car and swung around and suddenly he saw drops on his window. Melted snowflakes.

He'd better hurry before the city became a deep freeze. He sped, slid, and whirled to catch up to her. Once he thought he could aim a shot at her, hail began to thunder near his car. Maneuvering around with one hand, he aimed an unsteady finger and a crack sounded. Snowflakes stopped.

She got up slowly. She wasn't dead, likely shaken, maybe wounded. Hail now hurtled at he himself as he went to check it out, sideways headed at him as she defiantly ran on. He jumped, ducked and used every bit of military will, and eventually cornered her.

Lightning began to darken as the snow turned to rain. He quickly dropped his gun so it would hit him. Even then, she was probably trying to aim it as best she could. He had one shot, and he took it. Not with the dart gun, to drag her to Pandora's Box. That would be too horrible.

"You don't know how merciful I'm being. But can afford it. I'm in control here, and I want you before you die, to know that." And his second shot resounded throughout the alley. A small Company cell within waste management for Ft. Lauderdale was soon there to remove the hail, and other then that the weather was explained away as merely anomalous.

Police took in her abusive ex-husband in murder charges. He went insane and confessed, remembering in the back of his head. He was about to say it was revenge for her damaging his house with her power. Dallas had to kill him too.

Dallas stepped into the rental he came in. "And now that I'm back, I'll stop that cynic Adam. I'll do anything I can to be good." Little did he know that the next time his helplessness came back, it merge in an odd way with his aura of power. And it would be the death of him.

COMPANY HQ, NY.

Maury sat for Arthur's debriefing. It was a room better suited for interrogation, but the Group was trying to keep this hush-hush. Maury opened with a small greeting. "Mr. Petrelli, how did it go?"

"Rather well. She put up a good battle, but I didn't see why she was a threat. I killed her, that's enough." Arthur settles into the harsh, simple, metal chair as if it were his soft, comfortable chair at his den in Manhattan.

"Adam saw her as a threat. And Bob deemed it best to put he in the Box. I need to know why. Otherwise you'll be demoted, thrown out. At best misunderstood and at worst killed." Maury articulated, the one overhanging light masking his face in half-shadow, the light side a dark gleam to match Arthur's motivated light spark in his eye.

"They wouldn't do it while Angela's on the board. Think about it, Parkman. Or maybe you can't, being a controlled mind. You're nothing but their dog." Arthur cruelly joked, but half of him sincerely pleaded with the guy, believing fully that there was no danger. He'd never attacked anyone ever, and there had been worse comments. And on the other side, he was being helpful.

"I can rip into your thoughts and find this out myself." He growled, upset at the stinging comment.

"But you'll never actually do anything will you? Take the hard way and violate my brain? You're a groveler now, and you will be forever."

And with that Maury unleashed what mentally sounded like a roar as his pent-up emotion gushed out in animal rage. Arthur threw up some walls, focusing on the image of his law course book from college, that Maury questioned with a savage grunt. Shocked, Arthur had to stop the guy from figuring out his wife's research and threw out a false thought. _She left me no choice. She almost overwhelmed me. _This seemed to satisfy Maury, who let go of his mind.

"Sorry. Arthur." He gasped, until his voice came back firm and resolute. " But I'm sick of being your joke. Sick of being ordered like a dog. Every time I rip into a mind I try to rip away my sin, too. No longer. I'm too late, though. Fine, then I'll be sinful. No more guilt. I'll still obey, but only because I'm looking out for myself. And because I believe in the cause. "

Arthur shaken, smoothed out his leather jacket and ogled the tear in his jeans from Maury's physical grasp, from begin dragged over the table. "And I am sorry too, Maury."_ We really have made a mess of this man. Let's hope, like me, he can get out. I think he has._

NOVEMBER, 1977. PRIMATECH PAPER, ODESSA, TEXAS.

Kaito Nakamura watched the guards haul Adam towards him. It was only a matter of time before it happened. Everyone gradually began to see that Adam wasn't the way to success. First the Society, then Arthur, and surprisingly then Maury. The real debate was whether they should behead him, contain him, or send him to Pandora's Box. That vote was tied three ways until Arthur went from death to detainment. But were they still greedy, just less evil? Was the Company really redeeming itself and better of, just by disposing of Adam? Was it that easy? Would the Deveaux Society's power go to their head?

Victoria was still on no one's side. Both sides were violent in what exactly should happen. So now the Company numbered 12 founders. One undecided, five for the Linderman Group, and six for the Deveaux Society. At least, he thought so. Lately he'd been the dark horse. Perhaps he'd have to start anew. The Yammagato Fellowship was an idea. Probably comprised of lower level management and him. He'd be the employee's voice. And if they couldn't fix it, he'd leave the Company. Maybe he could have kids. Live normal. Do what he could to save the regular world. Not the specials. Be independent. Five, five, and him and Victoria. He'd restore the balance.

Hiro of the near past watched as well. Victoria peeked out from her office. They couldn't hear what he heard. Adam screamed from the far end of the corridor. "What're going to do to me, Nakamura? Shut me away in the Box?"

He softly replied. "No. Thank God you were saved from that horror by your Groupies. A fate worse then death, it's what I thought was good for you."

Ando Masahashi joked around with some others at the water cooler. One remarked coolly, "You'll never get it, Ando. Dream on. Raito the janitor is in line ahead of you."

"A promotion? I know exactly how to get it."

_Next, on Heroes:_

_Bob, on the phone with Noah. "You have a new partner."_

_Angela, shouting at Bob. "Did you really have no choice? Are you that far gone?"_

_A mysterious, regular framed, yet buff, African American male, about 40 due to his mustache and slight age lines. "Time to play this city like a horn. New Orleans, I'm back."_


	3. Pandora's Box

AN: Watch for the narration's significance to the story. I try to use them to connect to the story on a deeper plane, and if I don't succeed in this let me know.

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter Three: Pandora's Box 

Angela Petrelli: _Pandora's Box is a tale of conflicting forces. The curious nature of man, the evils he releases, but the hope it also brings. The myth is the tale of a woman created by all the gods, holding a pithos that contains three things: the power of a mortal to destroy a god to rebel and destroy the very powers that bind them. Another doom-aiding prospect is all the evils of the world, were unleashed to the wind, to challenge the moral fiber and battle-readiness of man and make them weaker than those in power. Also, with this, comes the one thing that enables man to overcome the release of deprivation, and overcome those whop oppress them, and thus react to the other two, and have a saving grace, is hope._

_The fact that all the gods created such a thing shows, yea, their true and utter control of man. Their stubborn confidence that, once deprived of moral perfection, many could not find the power to destroy them and that even if they tried they would fail. They underestimated hope. What does this say about our psychological pathos? It says that if we a re special we tend to control. And if not, we are curious, like the man who found it in some interpretations, to open it. And it only with that brave step of faith that we release not only obstacles to overcome, but our salvation that will help us overcome it: hope._

Bob Bishop stood at the head of a ship. A ship he had steered like proud captain, running the day-to-day of the _USS The Company_ ever since the crisis, with consultation from Angela and occasional orders from Daniel. But all Captains must go down with the ship. He understood that, but Robert Bishop was one who would first try to bail his ship out. No matter the cost.

He recalled the conversation he had with Angela Petrelli recently.

"_Angela, thanks for picking up." Bob remarked at the frequently unavailable Mrs. Petrelli._

"_It's never a problem Bob." Angela said softly on the phone, turning on the newscast, which would carry Nathan's conference._

"_Given the recent events surrounding Claire Bennett and my daughter, I feel some measure should be taken to prevent our utter destruction." Bob inveighed with utter urgency._

"_Are you aware my son has a press conference at this very moment that could deliver the final blow." Angela said with pride that was soured by slight sorrow._

"_Yes. We have placed the Haitian thereto hinder any evidence of anyone's powers. If needed, he will have to erase your son's memory."_

"_Ask him not to. If he has to shadow my son so he never flies again, I'd prefer it. He'll do it. As a favor to me." She was startled but not alarmed. If loyal to anyone, it would likely be her or Noah. But as she thought about, more likely Claire. That was the only reason Noah and her ever contracted him in the first place._

"_I will, Angela. There is one more measure I wish to take. I'm going to relax security measures at Pandora's Box." It was drastic indeed, but it was a firm step towards the ladder of success._

_He heard a soft gasp from her. Likely something that went on at the conference. She was too well composed to gasp at just that, even though normal people might have. His office was instantly abuzz outside. A man burst in and almost blurted something out but Bob gestured him outside, to wait. He heard her next words, perfectly just like her, trying to continue the plan regardless of emotional distress. I __know... It was unavoidable... You do know that you've now opened Pandora's Box.__"_

"_Yes, it will virtually be emptied. All of the Company's most dangerous finds are detained or buried there, by the disciples ourselves. And now with them released, the heroes will either run to us, because we know the most about these horrors, or die. There's always the risk we may go down as well, but that's a risk I'm willing to take."_

"_I can follow your logic, Bob, c'mon. What do you take me for, a fool?" Her voice rose. "Did you really have no choice? Are you that far gone?"_

"_My daughter brought me a weapon and gave us back our compass. We are in a position to strike. You don't what's been going on. Our vault, destroyed. Claire's blood, gone for now. Minor victories to them, major losses to us. Angela, poise and strategy are all that's left. We're the only two remaining. I say we fight, not hide."_

"_Al…alright Bob." She dropped her business voice. "I have…a personal crisis that just arose. Now was not the time. But thanks again, Bob. I'm glad you value my advice." She was aware that most of that came from the recent, sudden shock._

"_I know you'll get through it, Angela." He reassured her._

_The man was speaking as soon as he was waved and the door clicked open. "Mr. Bishop! On TV! Nathan Petrelli was shot. The Haitian denies having anything to do with it. He got a good look at the killer, at least better then the police. He could at least tell that the killer was definitely a male, Caucasian."_

_Bob dropped his head. What had he just done to Angela? Ever since Elle's birth, he had tried to be more moral. But he frequently failed. He was tired of it. He regained his composure and lifted his head. "Well then, at least the rift has begun." He gave his charismatic grin many characterized as evil. But it was the closest he got to jovial._

In New Orleans, a plane touched down and a little girl and Indian man stepped off. "I'm going to see Micah, again, right?" Molly asked as they strode down towards the greeting area.

"Yes Molly, but keep in mind that his mom did just die." _A terrible thing to have in common,_ thought he as he clutched his satchel full of notes and the only remaining sample of Claire's blood. In case anything went wrong.

"It's sad." She said in an unnatural, adult tone that wasn't sorrowful at all. "She was nice." She smiled sadly; remembering how DL and Nikki had shielded them from Kirby Plaza, held her when Officer Parkman got shot.

They met up with Monica and Micah at the car. "Hello, Monica. I'm Dr. Suresh. Sorry for your loss."

"Yes, well...it's been difficult. To know that if you hadn't been dumb enough that you could've saved somebody, that your savior died when it could've been prevented…"

"I feel terribly sorry. I wanted to offer you this blood. Marvelous healing properties. I only wish that she hadn't died under those circumstances, or we could get her back." Mohinder expressed his sincere regret.

"Hi, Micah." Molly said shyly, trying to appear sad knowing the circumstances, but happy to see him. They got in the car, solemn, as they went off to the funeral home.

Underground, a tunnel is being built. We cannot tell how long it is, it continuously fills itself seamlessly as it goes. This man's power is earth control, or geokinesis. He appears right where they're standing, crawls, out and surveys the city after repairing the hole.

He is a mysterious, regular framed, yet buff, African American male, about 40 due to his mustache and slight age lines. He shook his head as if rattling off a bad memory, looks around, paranoid, but grows in confidence as he recognizes that he wound up right where he wants to. "Time to play this city like a horn. New Orleans, I'm back."

He strides off like he owns the city, with apparent destination in mind, and on the ground he tosses a tag that reads. _**Knox Underhill, Geokinesis. Detainee, Pandora's Box.**_

Noah had just sent Lyle off to bed when his cell phone rang. Trying to hide it, he stepped out into the backyard. The phone almost went to voicemail, but he flipped it opened, avoiding the pool and sitting on a lawn chair. "Bob?"

"Noah, you have a new partner." Bob seemed emotional about something else and sheerly informative.

"I wasn't expecting a phone call from the top." _But why would he call, just for a minor business thing he could've faxed me about?_

"Look, I just relaxed security at the Box. These people are very dangerous... and powerful... like twelve Sylars running free. Once the revolutionaries are depleted, you and Maya will play a very important role in bringing them back to us….dead. " _Revolutionaries!_ Exclaimed Noah to himself. _What are we, a dictorate?_

" I know damn well enough about the Box. And I also know that one of them has intuitive attitude, except with him…." He need not mention more about that. God, what had he gotten himself back into! "Twelve Sylars...more like one, and elven others just as dangerous."

"I'll just tell you about her. We're training her here, she has the ability to kill anyone within an estimated radius of about 50 feet, but it naturally controls itself, usually, within the room she's in, perhaps a few adjoining."

"Sounds good, I guess." He reluctantly accepted.

"Thanks again for getting back on board, Noah. We'll have her in Costa Verde within the week." Bob seemed frantic and eager to get down to the end. But Noah wasn't through with him yet.

"A week! With that power, that's not nearly adequate-" By then, Noah was talking to thin air. _This could be trouble._

"Hey Daddy." She greeted him with a small hug.

"Hello, Elle. Good to see you."

"So, did I do good?" She pressed on about the matter. _Business as usual, just like her father. _Bob beamed at the thought.

"Yes, Elle. You can go on bigger missions soon." He said with a grin. He was genuinely proud of her. The escapees would take care of Sylar. Or Peter Petrelli. He didn't honestly care which. Elle was back.

"Sure got busier since I was here last." She laughed, observing the hustle and bustle of office aides. At times she could be such a treasure, like a girl. Others, like a business partner, and then again, a malevolent, well, sociopath. He didn't know how to handle her. Here he was, not expecting to ever be a father, and when he decided to he got the toughest kid to handle. 

"The clock is ticking, Elle. We are in danger of being exposed, and I just took a huge risk recently." He braced himself.

"What?" She asked in earnest, for all world an innocent child.

"I opened Pandora's Box." He said matter-of-factly, but with regret. Like revealing the truth about Santa Claus.

"Daddy, not even Sylar was bad enough for that place, and I could barely get him1" A look of panic spread across her face.

"Shhhh…everything's going to be alright, Elle." Except for the hug and comforting, it was almost a real family moment. The closest, at least, the Bishops would ever have. "Your power is only as good as you make it. Now go out there, and get in the field and do what only I know you can do."

Elle stood straight up, with a smile on her face. "I know exactly what to do, too. Thanks Dad."

Knox Underhill strode with purpose towards the area that was once his. The basketball courts, an old library, a bunch of apartments and few warehouses. And all he saw in the distance was a motor home town set up for Katrina victims. And boy, did that get him pissed off. From the crime overlord of this city to helpless prison man, only to triumphantly return to…a trailer park? And a bunch of small gangs, with bosses that didn't know what the word power truly meant.

Molly and Micah sat on the steps, somberly sipping lemonade and neither one knowing what to say. Micah's cousin watched them and came out the front door. "Micah, you got a girl right here or something?"

"No, no. She's a friend. Why are you always picking on me! Gosh!" He stood up and threw down his hands in frustration. Nothing ever went right for him recently. Nothing!

"Cuz it's fun, man." He muttered, but softly. He knew respect. He just didn't show it much. Molly looked at them with eyes that were so wide and amazed at the cruelty of people. _Man, she don't know nothi- anything._

"It's ok, Micah. You have Monica just like I have Mr. Parkman and Mr. Suresh." Molly tried to put a hand around the pacing boy.

"What good is she? She couldn't get my stuff back." He dejectedly accepted the arms and sad down.

"That just childish, dawg." Damon said sincerely, while being preoccupied with some boxing gloves on the porch across the street.

"Yeah, Micah. That's stupid. She cares, and your grandma cares, and even him in a weird way." She gestured towards Damon, who hopped the rail, like he would make a go at stealing the gloves.

"Thanks, I guess." Flattered, Damon stopped; suddenly conscious of what he was about to do. Micah just smiled at his cousin, and clapped Molly on the back. Maybe he could get through this.

All at once, many things happened. The earth shook violently, a vial almost broke, and Molly hit her head due to the tremors and Damon and Micah rushed out. Then came Mohinder and Monica, Mohinder trying to tell them to get inside with Nana, and Monica's eyes on the horizon.

She spied someone very familiar on the hillcrest. Knox Underhill, the man who bullied DL when they were freshman and senior in high school. The man who almost led DL to his gang. The man who killed her father.

Now she knew how he was so powerful. She crouched down, ready to fight the man who almost destroyed everyone's life and was back to do it again. Mohinder ushered the kids inside, but stayed out there.

"Don't be a hero, Mr. Suresh! I got him." She spoke brusquely as she dodged falling objects and such. Molly and Micah had hung back and as soon as Mohinder grasped the gravity of the situation, he ran with the kids.

Using her knowledge of several battle movies and stealth training videos, she moved around so that when Knox and his full-blown earthquake approached the entrance, she was right behind a car nearby. Using the balance of the gymnast on her iPod, she noticed that the earthquake grew more powerful the closer to him it was, but the ground remained steady where he himself walked.

Obviously he was well controlled with his powers. Well, so was she. She jumped out from her crouch and delivered a solid kick to his temple. The earthquake stopped, but Knox didn't. He sprang up and faced his attacker. "Monica Dawson. Well, well, well. Always wanted to stick up for your older cousin but you never really had the chance. Not even now."

Soon the ground rippled and rolled with all the tumult of the ocean. She fell rather soon, and wielding a compact ball of soil, he loomed above her fallen form. She got up with a roundhouse kick that caught him off guard, but he soon set up a small wall of Earth in front of her that stopped her short.

The ground, which had ground to a halt, resumed to funnel as hard as Charybdis, drawing Monica within its depths. She tried to fight her way out, and was soon knocked out by his hurtling ball of rock and soil. Eventually the earth enveloped around her, and he looked down.

"How's it feel to be buried alive, hero?" He used the word mockingly, scoffing at her. As he hotwired a car and sped off through the debris, Mohinder and Molly tried to catch up to a distraught Micah.

"How's that for fair, huh Molly? I have NO ONE now. No hero to commiserate with, no one to stop that man. I've seen my mom blown up, my dad burned and my cousin buried alive!" Micah tried to inveigh his rage as if it was at them.

"Don't you dare say that Micah. My dad and mom were frozen! The boogeyman stared right into my eyes and I had to hide!" Molly turned away and nearly cried with hurt and fright, remembering that night.

"Micah, we will help you." Mohinder beckoned to be the calm, reassuring voice. He was adamant, iron and resolute.

"Well, maybe I don't want it." He ran off and they didn't bother trying to catch up.

He went into the public library. He found and old computer in an unused closes and began to fix it, like therapy. After finding and connecting with his mind to the Internet, words suddenly were displayed on the screen. **Impressive. Who are you?**

Reluctantly, he typed in, remaining vague. **A technopath. How are you doing this?**

**I am an electronic transceptor. I know what's going on with you. I believe I can help. **

**How? You're just alive through the Internet, Hana.**

**I am not Hana. **Nonetheless, the hero found this information very interesting indeed.

**Who are you?**

**Calm down, young one. You built this for therapy. Peace is what got you here. I'll contact you again. **

Micah sat there, amazed. Perhaps there was some hope out there.

A mysterious fortress rises out of a desolate and wintry area of Canada. Iron Gates, three stages of walls and towers, and with the Atlantic and a cliff at its back and sides, it is almost like a modern day castle. This…is Pandora's Box.

Two shadowy figures run across the wide-open field surrounding the least defended side, without the cliff. There is no forest in sight to ensure the guards spot any arrivals. They appear to be in their mid forties when they halt for a moment. One is a woman, the other a man with a good amount of facial hair. We can make out no more features. "Thanks for getting me out of that…place, Claude."

"It's no problem, love. I hid you for as long as I could and now I can protect you again." Claude nestled Diane in his arms.

"No Claude. I don't need protection. I need to help people. You know I have a good heart, unlike the other released…villains. And these are the most dangerous finds of the Company." She shoved him away, though gently.

"Not true. Two men, Adam and Sylar could be worse. But I've been observing things, love. They won't help us, and Peter Petrelli…I daresay I wouldn't be surprised if he's still upset at my leaving." Claude grimaced at how his wit and loneliness cost him any allies but her. Well, she might be enough.

"A more pressing question…why was it so easy to escape?" She shuddered, looking back at the place where many others were likely escaping gleefully.

"With all these villains unleashed, the world is dark. And we are a glimmer of hope." Claude spoke kindly and looked up to the sky, and moon caught his eye with said gleam of hope. They took of running, eager to go about the next step in their plan.

_Next, on Heroes:_

_Nathan's vitals flatline._

_West and Peter, staring each other down._

_The Haitian, to someone unseen. "It is you who must choose your allegiance."_


	4. Allegiance

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter Four: Allegiance 

Noah Bennett: _We're always in search of what we should do. We know what we want to do, but morally, spiritually, we feel driven to wander and try to choose the right path. You don't know if it's right, it's just what looks best at the time. Eventually you take a path and when it goes through a town you don't like the looks of, you start to question your intuition. But you're caught in a rut you can't get out of._

_We're caught, always caught. We're racing the clock to choose a way before it all tumbles down on us. And then we're stuck to that choice. We committed to it and somehow it compels us to keep on going the way we're going. Until the clock starts again, your exit comes up, and you cautiously venture into the wild to find a better path, a paved road that you hope exists. A perfect path without pain, where everything works out and you just, somehow, managed to miss it. Because you want so very desperately for the vehicle that is your life and family to stop having a car trouble, and to get back on the right track. _

Sylar walked into the doctor's office without a care in the world. And why shouldn't he? No one would recognize him as the murderer-at-large, Gabriel Grey. He smiles at the receptionist, exchanges sympathetic conversation with a doctor. Sanitizes himself, just like his guise would've been trained to do. After all, Peter Petrelli WAS a nurse, wasn't he?

He loved this new power. He was almost glad that…events transpired as they did. Now, he need not threaten that weakling Maya with 'killing other people'. He could stop her cold. And with this, not only could he sneak by people without James Walker's shadow movement, but in plain sight. It'd be fascinating to haunt heroes with his appearance before he sucked them dry.

Speaking of which, he stepped into a room nearby. "Hey flyboy." He greeted in a Peter's voice, marveling at irony all the while. The patient's vitals rose as if he could hear the voice. Without warning, they flatlined. No sound issued from the monitor, and soon another flat line appeared in that room.

That line was on the victim's forehead. As Sylar walked out, the identifying placard on the door fell with a floating grace. It read _**Nathan Petrelli.**_

Noah Bennett woke up to the sound of wind chimes. A calming sound in a hectic life. He slowly got out of bed, not wanting to wake Sandra, and looked at the early hour that flashed on the clock. Ah well. If he got out of the house now, at least he wouldn't have to confront his brooding daughter.

He walked down the corridor upstairs that housed one of the bathrooms and the three bedrooms, smiling at Claire and walking in to kiss Lyle on the forehead. He wouldn't say it, but he was still young enough to get more then a smile. God, he knew what that was like. _For it to all be simple again…_

He grabbed a cup of coffee and his pre-packed briefcase. He got into his car, and just sat in the garage watching the sun come up, creeping up, actually, at the time it was now. He pulled out his cell phone and called a number of an old companion. Nothing played before you left a message, just the beep.

"Hello, Haitian. Please call back." That man was so frustrating. You never knew his loyalties, and though they never had happened to conflict with him, it certainly puzzled Noah. The man's secrecy…. he doubted even the Company knew his name. And Noah needed him. To talk to, to help him until his newbie partner arrived.

The car pulled out of the driveway and onto the little circuit of their subdivision.

Peter Petrelli had checked out of his hotel just a while ago. He steadily made his way to the Bennet house, which was likely going about the morning and about ready to go. A perfect time to contact Claire without Bennett's interference. He snickered at the cliché subdivision name of _**Palm Grove **_and continued walking. When something touched his mind. He was, in a way, able to detect people by every once in a while, routinely, projecting to read thoughts.

He found it boring, until he was halted by the sudden appearance of a thought. _…Claire…_ It was muddled, as if far away, but it must be close in order for him to hear it. He looked around and spotted a figure flying onto the roof. _Nathan? _He wondered how that could be.

The figure spotted him and came towards him. Soon he saw it was not Nathan, but a teenager of the same build with longer hair and a wild look in his eyes. He landed, staring down Peter with an icy glare. He spoke.

"Who are you, and why are you near Claire?" He said with passion that caught Peter aback. So there was yet a third who was so protective of the cheerleader, his niece. Claire. She had her own little club now.

"I'm her uncle." He said with the authority of a suspicious father meeting the boyfriend. Maybe this was her boyfriend. It made perfect sense…same age, over-protectiveness…he had that in common with her dad. The adoptive one.

"I don't care. I know who you are now. I thought you were that Congressman, but you're his brother, you were there too."

"How would you know Nathan?" Peter cocked his head in wonder.

"I shot him. To protect us." And Peter didn't get the feeling he was talking about the heroes. Definitely Claire's boyfriend, if a bit too crazy for her.

"You shot my brother." He gritted, emotional once more and wielding lightning. West gasped at seeing this man wielding another power, that of someone who hurt Claire, but pressed on.

"He was bird that had to be grounded." He gritted in the same manner, knowing that all the pleading in the world wouldn't change Peter's mind.

"And for killing him, so should you." Peter spoke in a voice as hard as stone. He understood that the revelation might be uneasy and difficult, but he also understood this: the Company was evil, and this was the only way to bring them down.

"Only room for one eagle in the sky? Is that what you think?" _A good analogy_, thought Peter, _Likely from the English classes they have to take. _He busied his mind with a thought afar from his struggle. Was he really busying himself though? Or freeing it, freeing it indeed, freeing it from responsibility?

"No, no." He answered his thoughts just as much and just as resolute as he addressed West. He had his responsibility. That was just a thought, nothing more.

"I'll ask you one more time: why are you here?"

"For a reason you probably won't 'allow'." Peter snapped sarcastically, allowing the lightning to disperse across the expanse of his hands, crackling all the while ominously.

"That's enough." West whipped out a gun and fired. Peter instantly stopped the bullets as they came. Eventually, as West tried to beat his reflexes, unknowing Peter could heal just as well as Claire (except, as she, in the head). Peter decided this was over and went on the offensive.

He quickly flew up and shot a stream of lightning to shock the boy, who avoided it by going diagonally upwards to Peter's level. Peter then tripped him with telekinesis. As the boy fell, his words, they faintly floated up like ghosts. "My allegiance lies with Claire!"

Touched, Peter gently floated him down telekinetically on the grass, laying the boy's unconscious body in the shrubs to hide him from Bennett. Were they really all that different? They all wanted the best for Claire, and seeing as West hid himself from Bennett, too, he could be an ally.

A disturbing thought hit him as he ventured away, floating, slightly weary and not so hurried to see Claire. _Then what makes my way the right way?_

Claire Bennett met at lunch a man, African American, in the vast expanse of the courtyard at Costa Verde High School. She made her way over there, stopping short when another teacher stops the man. He flashed a substitute card, and she moved on and Claire stepped up.

"You, uh, heard the wind chimes." She feebly began.

"Yes." He responded, containing the grin at her frustration. Not many people knew he spoke. And those who did wished he'd say more.

"Ummmm…can you help me?"

"Sure. Why else did you ring the chimes?" He said simply.

"I don't know how you can help, it's just…." She pawed at the ground, embarrassed about meeting him in front of high schoolers. _DEFINITELY not normal_. That brought a smile to her face. The Haitian returned it, in a comforting, similar manner.

She continued. "My uncle showed up, and Noah..." She paused a bit. The first time she had called her dad Noah. She'd never been that mad. "…Well, he thinks its best I don't give my blood, but my…dad…Nathan…needs it." She put urgency into the next part, because it was something she'd bottled up to maintain the peace at home. "He's just so stubborn, just because Peter's against the Company and I've lived with him longer than Nathan, he thinks he has the right to…to…" She was at a loss for word as it all came out.

"To try and kill him." He spoke matter-of-factly. He knew how Noah thought. They'd killed, went on many missions. In fact, he was probably the first person to know his full name besides his family and superiors.

"Yes! Exactly! Can you help me? Many people are counting on you." She pleaded with the traditional 'innocent girl' look in her widened eyes.

"Of course, Claire. I owe allegiance to no one but you. You need no saving, but yet you have four saviors. It is you who must chose your allegiance with one of them." She felt empowered by those words, that only she needed saving.

She began to nod solemnly at the words, put her head down as if she'd cry. Suddenly her neck rippled, and a laugh came out. "What is it, Claire?" He asked.

"Nothing...you just made a speech!" She exclaimed, with a charismatic, teasing grin.

He merely nodded. _That I did. That must be… no, that IS…one special girl. _She stomped her feet in mock frustration. He waved a hand goodbye, and tossed back a paper airplane. Claire read the words. "I'll be nearby, if you can ever figure this out."

Peter Petrelli snuck into the Bennett house with care. That West kid wouldn't mess with him, but Noah was still there, and he'd been combating heroes when Peter was a teen. Not that Noah was that much, okay, 10 years older roughly...god, he felt old. No degree of regeneration could stop that.

He jettisoned himself up her window, telekinetically undid the locks. He flew in, put everything back to the way it was. Claire was taking a nap, and as he touched her arm, time froze. Except them, of course. Claire was the first to speak.

"I'm so glad you're here." She smiled and hugged him.

"I'm so glad you forgave your dad. He is my brother, after all." He smirked. "But maybe it's best you'd actually be asleep for this. It'd be gentler." He gestured to the necessary tools he carried in a small briefcase, like the sort that hold a gun.

She lay back down, comfortable. And Peter proceeded to save his brother. There was, of course, the chance he was alive. He wasn't even dead yet. But he preferred not to risk it. He left, but the ordeal wasn't over yet…

When Claire woke up, she felt a little faint. She wondered why, and fell back asleep.

Although she vaguely recalled the words. "You fixed it, but you must choose."

Peter Petrelli strides out to an abandoned parking lot near the beach; unaware that this was the sight of a horrible hostage exchange. He glances at the sunset, at the gleam of it off of a polished, bald ebony dome. The Haitian stood facing the very rocky crags where Claire Bennet had spread her 'dad's ashes', as if in prayer.

"Well…thank you very much." Peter was unsure of what to say. Too many emotions ran through him. _No wonder I'm an empath. _He had deceived Noah, found a new enemy in Claire's boyfriend. He had wiped Claire's memory, albeit willingly. And most important of all…there was the beauty of nature before him, and now he had hope to save his brother.

The Haitian merely nodded. He had no qualms about it. He was only doing what he'd been doing all along. Protecting Claire. But there was always a driving force, that had employed his soul more then Peter, Noah, Angela, or the Company ever had.

Two men of purpose, who no one had ever stood, stood firm. Silent. One as he had always been, and the other a stranger to the idea. Waves crashed on the rocks, and it seemed hard to believe they would ever avoid the crags on which they stood. But a strong wave came and if you looked hard enough, quite few pebbles broke off.

Peter Petrelli faced face the sunset and flew into it. The Haitian watched him leave. Once he was sure the man was gone, as evidenced, he saw in the waning light a glittering. There he saw the necklace of the Snake and Crane. The debt had been repaid, and it seemed the two had traded roles again. _Remember who you are._ The Haitian looked at the sky. _Remember the will of God foremost. _His true goal, his true calling, became clear. His services to Claire were part of it, and so was a long forgotten memory.

"Tell me, Guillame. Dad. Have I kept my promise?"

In a hospital room where the dead awaited the funeral, hooked up to their vitals by some odd hope that people always have, one of these vitals begin to spike again. A voice cuts the still air with a powerful, overcome sense of happiness. "Thank you Claire, you made the right choice."

_Next, on Heroes:_

_Adam Monroe - "It's time to take this to the next level."_

_Hiro – "I am here as Company employee."_

_Victoria Pratt – "With all power comes disagreement and division."_


	5. Schism

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter Five: Schism 

From the desk/diary of Victoria Pratt, duplicated and given to Claude Rains. Now in the possession of Hiro Nakamura. Dated May 17th, 1977: _Moderating between these two groups seems almost official now. It's become so tough and so challenging, that at one time Arthur could disagree with his wife, and Paula and Daniel could theorize together, even though they had many differences, but no everyone votes for the party and I must take sides or force them to treaty. I guess with all power comes disagreement and division. We thought we could bypass governments and get stuff done, but now we too have our parties. It's safe to say there is now a schism in the works. Lord knows when we recover. _

_But I will try to get us all back to the ideals we came together for: namely, a better world. I will do hat or die trying. Though people will eventually THINK I'm crazy if I fail, I am determined. I will not be reduced to that. And though I have no sides, I wonder why the man who connected the dots is the root of the problem: Adam Monroe. No question, the soul of the Company lies within, if any one person, Daniel, but he is more humanitarian. Yes, much would be better off if not for the radical Monroe. He is the only one that should and ever will be deposed. I will make sure of that in private, if not public. And the 12 founders will be all that is remembered, until we die. Nothing else will separate us. Nothing._

MAY 17TH, 1977

Victoria Pratt never took sides. Or at least, no one thought she did. When she requested to bow out of the current head butting boardroom war to run the Company's employees, no one was suspicious of moderator, a biochemist with no powers and a difficult enough project with their bioweapon.

But they should have. Oh, they should have. Especially Arthur Petrelli and Paula Gramble. They, of all people, should know that even non-heroes, especially ones like those three, with dynamic personas and fabulous brains, were just as clever and powerful. Arthur Petrelli, hell, he thought he was invincible, considering his allies. Adam Monroe was a passionate man, enough to probably heal any board member, except maybe Kaito Nakamura. And they were all sue he'd do it for his wife Trina.

But under her direct guidance, with some looking in by Courtney Rueben and Bob Bishop so the two sides would be appeased, the Company, aside from the division between founders, flourished. The various backgrounds of the 13 provided an ability to set up special facilities, research labs, and re-format the existing buildings owned by their consolidating individual business interests. They had already paired 54 heroes and been tracking 23 more. They had shut down 12 dangers and locked one in the test facility ironically dubbed "Pandora's Box."

The cells were now directly controlled by the Linderman Group, which troubled the Deveaux Society. To appease them, she let them run research while she continued the consolidation and expansion of the business end AND began research on the only thing they could all agree on: a bioweapon. It would make them the most powerful organization not in government, and would demand respect, and in the case the Company failed, the ability to kill all villains with abilities.

Victoria Pratt was the one secretly in charge of chaos. But she also, more publicly, carried the burden. And both were very heavy weights that would in time break her. She, however, was determined not to. And she also, beyond a doubt, wanted to keep the Company from formally splitting, in any way.

Hiro Nakamura landed with silence in the middle of an office. Thankfully it was empty. He saw nearby a notebook, likely why he teleported straight here. He saw that on the inside as well as on the nameplate, that this was the property of Victoria Pratt. It held many chemical formulas, biological structure, financial figures, numerous to-do lists, and a few journal entries.

He surveyed the darkened place, careful not to mess with anything. Anything destroyed might alter the future. This woman was developing the bio-weapon, which would lead to the destruction of the heroes, but now it would lead to the trapping of Adam and destruction of many of their valuables. That was needed, fated.

He saw her official title "Human Services, Biochemical Manager and Direct Supervisor of Field Agents and Finance." He knew what he had to do, then.

2007

Ando Masahashi nervously ventured toward an office door. This was oddly difficult for him. And he had done many difficult things since that fateful day when Hiro left to New York. _Really? Has it been you? _Some part of himself fought his overall personality of confidence, fake suave acts, good-natured, and slight perversion. This side was serious. _Or has Hiro just brought you along for the ride?_

He shoved that voice out of his head. He didn't want to face the serious side of him. It was rather dark. _Dark thoughts because you've been shown dark events. _He lost it, regardless; before he was depressed with the thought that he really didn't help Hiro, only hurt him. He decided to get back to normalcy. Or as close to it

He knocked on the door. He heard clapping from within, and it opened. The office was the CEO's, so it would be equipped with the latest. "Kimiko?" He ventured nervously.

"Oh, hello Ando. Can you make it quick?" Kimiko voice spelled urgency. She was the owner-to-be anyway, so it seemed natural she was busy.

"Well, ever since the incident with the motorcycles, I was wondering…" He suddenly felt light-headed, trailing off as Kimiko continued her work.

"Yes, Ando?" He was so sweaty and dizzy, he had to sit down. The situation they were in, as well as her beauty, just made him so heated. No fan, like the two in the back corners, could stop it.

"Could I…take you out to dinner or something?" Ando nervously managed to say, faintly.

"Sure." Kimiko smiled sincerely, but responded simple and business-like, and brushed passed him, off to a meeting.

"I know, it's weird because you're his younger sister…." Ando mumbled on, still not accepting what happened. But the second he did he looked up to the sky. "Yatta!" He followed it up by doing the fist-pump he'd seen in America.

MAY 17TH, 1997

Hiro stepped back and began slowly observing the very actions of the Company. The frequent fits thrown by Victoria at dealing with the board, the horrors of Bob Bishop observing tests run on heroes. The distance of his dad from even those who in the future would be in the Society with him, who apparently was coming in from Japan for a mission. And he saw, most importantly, that none of these were exempt from wrong.

Even Charles Deveaux was as hard as the rest, demanding any large act of violence by a hero, whether intentional or accidental, be worthy of death. But Hiro could tell, knowing the future like some seer that in the slight tension of his skin and the small coughs that Charles Deveaux would soon turn against this. And it all began with a boardroom discussion.

Adam Monroe tried to take control and succeeded by opening the meeting. After the general pleasantries and the formalities of the minutes and finance reports by Ms. Pratt, he spoke with the clear vision and narrow focus of an eagle. "What has our Company become? It has become a great center for heroes to be trained, villains to be quelled. It has become a leading biological, evolutional, and chemic study center. It is a very profitable organization due to the melding of our old occupations. But it is not extended to its full authority."

Though Charles, as he insisted on being called by even his friends (oddly enough the only thing he wasn't very liberal and accepting about), had disagreed before, but never with such freverant and eloquent speech. "What says you, Monroe? We become a political party? Run a black market? What else is there? Nothing that would lead to any good. We are perfectly fine where we are. You want more power? Evolved humans are the future. You, of all people, should know that. We control them, and we control the future." Oh, how Hiro knew that was true. The actions of these 13 would cause catastrophe and ecstasy for many in the next generation.

Adam Monroe unleashed a subtle series of coughs at that. "No, my good Deveaux. Heroes are the past. In my time, I only knew of two. But there were likely more, due to the weak technology I just couldn't find them. Ever heard of the Bible? Think that was God? Even if it was, it was through powers he gave them. Ever heard of priests and shamans performing wonders? No, the future is the heroes who act. The others, simply never did. That is why each generation sees them as 'new'. Because they hide, and when they show, they are content to settle for less then they could have."

Hiro gritted his teeth. He could tell that there was so much more Monroe wanted to and would later add. He finished the speech in his head. _Because God gave us these, we are now God. And only we can control humanity and right their wrongs. But I, oh, I won't mention the cost to the world. And what a cost! _The man wouldn't call him carp, if and when he made it out of his grave in 2007.

"Let's just stop with colloquies and start some simple dialogue about this. And I agree with Adam, this would help business considerably." Bob Bishop remarked from his spot on the table.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it. That's what I say." Henry Fletcher casually leaned back on his chair. 

"And you're so learned, Henry? You just joined for the adventure." Arthur Petrelli ironically took a shot at the more 'local' of the founders, from a small town in Maine, where he dropped out of high school to become a firefighter for the 'adventure'. He soon tired of it, joined the Army but was too unruly. Exhibiting his first ability that he unknowingly copied, he managed to escape. He was recruited as a founder, thus, by Linderman and Petrelli, who had Army ties and had heard of it from a friend of theirs who was at the base.

"Would you rather I not kill the heroes who would destroy at least us, if not the world?" Henry's fiery temper rose as he rose, fists clenched. One in the boardroom would likely not have been surprised if he hasn't started to shoot flames from those fists. Aside from the powers of the thirteen, he accrued many powers from the villains he battled. And as of yet, he couldn't control all of them.

"All I'm saying is, it's time to take this to the next level. We are either God ourselves, or God's instruments. We can't sit idly by." Adam said as if there was nothing controversial about it, and certainly not meriting even an argument.

Victoria calmed them down, and their reports began. Kaito's turn came around, "As you all know, I have been assigned to a mission with Bob to break into biological records from a bank in Mumbai, a college study by some guy named Suresh. About our age, we'll copy the files and keep an eye on him. That's all." It was apparent he was suppressing his anger from the many heated comments made.

Paula followed his lead. "Arthur and I have likewise decided to act on recent disruption within the Seattle locale." And stayed silent. Nothing left was there but the usual. No one besides Austin and Adam knew much about anyone's personal life. Even with Angela and Arthur, it was minimal. None dated. All were married or pretty much resolute as single. Few had kids, and those who did had had them or they were clearly in the near future.

The meeting closed with no further distruptment. Hiro afterwards decided to follow his dad and the other missions, and stayed largely silent, using time manipulation and teleporting to see much at once and prevent being seen. The only notable new use of his was warping a certain area of a room to look to become the area's past while he stood there in the future. The only disruption was whenever someone bumped into him, but that he was able to escape by instant teleportation. While honing his skills, he saw many things.

In India, Bob Bishop casually commented to Kaito Nakamura as the rickshaw gently bumped and rolled past various bath sites, palace, markets and shanties of Mumbai. "Well, at least you're halfway home Kaito."

"Not even." The statement could be taken as a light remark, but the way Kaito Nakamura's chin narrowed, it was clear it just meant he was that much more anxious to get back to Yammagato Industries.

"Ok. We get in there. I disable the cameras by slowly sheening and obscuring the screen with a gold film layer. You use all the lockbusting techniques you remember from those videos you've watched to prep…"

"I know the business layout, Bishop."

"Just making conversation."

"You're clearly not good at it." An insult not really meant at Bob. Or even the Group, likely. Kaito had his own business, and a wife. He had better things to do then a routine copy-and-locator on one of their possible allies/enemies.

But Bob Bishop bobbed his head slightly in agreement. He knew he was bad at anything social. It wasn't that he felt inferior, he was just frank with everyone, including himself. And that's why he was the least likely to ever get married or have a kid…or anything. Business was Bob's baby. And gosh, he did it well, with resoluteness that Kaito begrudgingly noticed as admirable.

They went in, and it went well. For a while. Soon everything built up and Kaito's methods weren't working. The tension between the unofficial divide, Kaito's over-urgency and Bob's desire to stay on schedule, the silence of the rickshaw coupled with the silence at the boardroom. And then it shattered.

Kaito murmured to Bob. "Disable the audio." Bob outreached his hand and soon they were not only blurred but also soundless.

"It's not happening. I'm ashamed." Kaito bowed humbly. Not an overachiever, but perhaps with his honor code, thought Bob, he was at least a perfectionist. In that way they could relate.

"Ashamed!" Bob frantically exclaimed.

"Well then, here. Scrap metal. Backup plan: mold it to a key." Kaito frantically tried and remembered their alternative.

"I…. can't get it." The very concept was an over-extension of his abilities, to turn certain parts gold and not others, and shape it to the lock. It took concentration Bob could not have. He always remained clear on WHAT needed to be gone, but it was tough to appear in control. And thus is was reluctantly he managed to get the words out.

"You're too stressed." Kaito simply remarked, relieved of duty for the moment.

"Oh, and you aren't?" Many minutes passed and Bob was just that close to making it too thick trying to correct himself. He stuck it in. "Thank god, it popped open." And inside…. lay some essays. However, though they were Chandra Suresh's, they were marked _Modern Politics_, and listed many politicians around the world he thought acceptable to change and science. A varied topic that could only mean ones favoring genetic evolution and research. "Let's go."

"No way." Kaito used the American phrasing with emphasis. He normally tried to stay away from eloquence, be he made it apparent this time that the Japanese way of not using unneeded words was used in English for a certain reason.

"Morals have a time and place. And this is not now." Bob pocketed the essays in a folder.

"Why, because it isn't on your schedule? We haven't decided one way or the other on this yet." Kaito opened sarcastically and fell to simple bargaining.

"I'm making an executive call on this." Bishop began to leave.

"Don't pull rank when you can't, Bishop. Mind you, there are 12 executives, and I one." He threw up his fists in a boxing pose. Bob turned around.

Bob extended his hand as if to try and turn him to gold. The other hand was at his holster. "Politics is something we NEED to watch. To stay alive."

Kaito shook off some invisible demon. "Politics is all we are. No more goodness, no more honor. I shall return to Kyoto and then to Tokyo. You do what you want. But I warn you, next time fists will fly." He walked off, Bob with the documents almost fearful, not of guards but of Kaito.

Hiro gasped in shock, and quickly teleported to the Space Needle.

At the Space Needle, Hiro silently made a thought before observing two figures on a nearby rooftop. _Surely the Society is the good guys. They can't all be as bad as my father…and he's not evil, just curt. Or is he? He was about to be physical. _And faster then that thought, he landed on the rooftop, ducking behind a large smokestack.

Arthur Petrelli was storming off of an attic in frustration. "Those…. those…bastards! Just because we're not heroes, we deserve no respect? That's it! NO hero should ever be regional manager. And even the manager's partner, they should be a step below in the chain, regardless!"

Paula Gramble was a thoughtful woman. Wanted to be a writer, who had theorized on many aspects from science to psychology. She spoke softly and with purpose. "We're the only ones without powers, except Victoria. Do you think they'll go for it?"

Arthur responded bluntly. "They'll have to." They would have to. Otherwise, they'd lose three of the thirteen members, and possibly Angela. Forgetting that many thought thirteen was an unlucky number (Dallas was not a suspicious man) he knew that even those who did keep that in mind would still be shattered by the simple fact that these 10 people could not function without them.

Paula Gramble continued musing, ignoring Arthur unintentionally. "There must be a way to level the playing field…" Hiro smiled, knowing where this would lead from his first journey from that day that seemed…and was…so long ago, back in Tokyo.

Arthur Petrelli went back to the immediate. "I say we off this manager." He paced back and forth, used to law and presenting his case.

Paula gasped, shocked. So, Hiro supposed, they were the more moral ones. But all that vanished when she merely said. "Why?"

"He isn't a danger to us…now. He might get his own ideals, go after us. They are all too loyal to him, a schism might occur." How ironic it was he spoke of schisms. But that struck a chord within Ms. Gramble's suspended lute that was her heart. The sound resounded with a sharp _twang_.

"I have just gotten word." She said as if she had received the message in confidence and hadn't told him yet. "Bob and Kaito ran into an argument. Compromised the mission."

"I got the same word." Apparently, this division had spread to two channels of information. "They did the right thing." He stood rock-solid as his last name implied, almost ready for a fight.

"Kaito was too soft. He had fists. Should've used them. A knocked-out Bob would've insured we stuck with our business objective: genetics." Her voice stung with venom as if the chord of the lute and sprung off into a viper.

Arthur drew his gun. Paula drew hers. Hiro, shocked, drew back time, removed their guns after he had paused it, and then fast-forwarded. He didn't think until later how that might've affected the future. He didn't care.

A knock is heard at the door of Ms. Pratt. A tousled man resembling a young Kaito Nakumura, with a different jaw and glasses, entered. "Yes, Mr. Nagashima?" She addressed him with a glance only, like many bosses still absorbed in work.

"Um…I'm here as a Company employee."

"How else would you've gotten past security?" She exchanged a wry grin up at him, and a hint of a smile. She was the perfect kindly boss, but imposed enough power and authority to stay away from friendship.

"Yes. Um…I was wondering, now, with the boardroom debates, how the employees will be affected." Hiro, for it was he, smiled back and sat down; wanting to find out more about both the employee's side and about this moderator who might glean insight into the beginning of this Company.

"Employees… I wasn't aware of that aspect..." Hiro mock-bristled at the thought as she rummaged through some papers. "You will likely be retaining the same process, with delayed orders." She informed with an apologetic smile.

"This is nice to hear, though you haven't thought of us, we will not be suffering negatively." Hiro bowed with respect for this woman. She obviously thought a lot about anyone, Group, Society, or otherwise.

"Keep in touch. It's good to know that the employees care about the decisions upstairs." She finally rose, shook his hand and sat back down. "You could do something, someday."

"Like what, save the world?" He joked, getting into it.

She sincerely glances at him, thoughtful. "I wouldn't be surprised…"

Hiro, touched, decided to see what happened to her.

Hiro sat silent, back from Victoria's sad future, having witnessed her very murder by Peter, poor unknowing Peter, weighing his choices and trying to not cause chaos by doing anything rash. If he had saved Victoria, what would've happened? He didn't know, and therefore he had done nothing. The Society was more moral, but not devoid of flaws and violence, as he had seen throughout his excursion in 1977. He'd been more places then just those missions, and he had a choice to make. Maybe he should take the Company as a whole. At this point they seemed chaotic, making progress for neither evil nor good.

He'd have to find the shatterpoint. The one moment that this whole Company's downfall began. And that, surprisingly, likely did not lie in the somewhere between his own time and now. The actual event, whatever it was that made them evil, was likely then, but also something that couldn't be stopped. A buildup of what he already seen and what he hadn't.

Maybe there were hidden motives, hidden emotions and shadowed evils when the Company began. Were they even good or evil then? The only way to find out was to travel to the past. Find out what had driven Victoria Pratt to madness, his father to shame, and the rest to evil.

He stood, getting off of the bench he had been sitting on in Central Park of 1977. He saw many pictures flash before his eyes. At least, they looked like them. He was going throughout his dad's life, backwards through time. And suddenly, one of the images pauses for a second. A calendar in the scene before him reads August 1976. He must've seen something about the Company's formation, because then he vanished.

Victoria then stepped into the boardroom, back from a meeting with some employee, and ominously stating, "I'm back." The Company members, with the aid and mediation of Victoria, finally resolved the issue by formally deciding that each project should be motioned by the person who will be assigned to it, and then all will vote first on whether it should be done, and next whether it should be done by that person, and lastly, if they want it but a different person, a vote on that. Confusing, but for now, there was peace.

For now.

_Next, On Heroes_

_Noah Bennett: "She doesn't belong here."_

_West: "Electric girl better say some prayers."_

_Cut to: A shot of the sewer, blood on it, cockroach crawls across. Likely Kirby Plaza after the explosion, but we can't be sure. A British accent is heard "Can't believe I'm aiding a bloody villain"_


	6. Redemption

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter Six: Redemption 

Elle Bishop: I've gone on many missions. Killed many people. Never fell in love, but I sure strung some people around. Peter Petrelli. Matt Neuenberg. Can they ever forgive me? I doubt it. I've harmed too many people. And do I care? Little. I care nothing about people. But I suppose

Knowing what I know now, can I forgive my dad? I've never really apologized for anything. People are weak, but I am not a normal human. I always have a clear purpose. Maybe my dad's weak too. Maybe I'm too weak…to realize that not even he escapes my social limitation. I could care less about society, and they me.

Regardless of forgiveness and all, there is redemption. I am never wrong in what I do. But people, especially Bob…dad…can perceive things, obviously in the wrong way. And redemption is looking good for them. Or fixing problems. I need to do that. He seems happy to have me back, but am I just a tool? Is he really happy? Is he worthy of my redemption?

Noah Bennett was unaware anything had been going on with his daughter. Some protector. But as far as he knew, he was doing all he could. And it was working. He did not enjoy being lazy, filing paperwork until his partner arrived from New York.

He gazed out the window, pondering. Where was the Haitian? He had aided many ventures not by Bennett's orders, but as he had hacked into the Company's database, even they had lost sight of him as of recent days.

A knock on his door jarred his mind and swung him, as the door opened, into reality. "Hello. Mr. Bennett? I am Maya." A younger woman walked in, on the verge of tears. Thank god they weren't black, he remembered. Recalling his file on her up from his desktop, he saw that she was emotional.

Hate the Company's policy as he might, he would've thought their harsh ways would've tamed that out of her. A tough case, she was. "Hi, I'm Mr. Bennett." He had to keep his identity, or most of it, shrouded again. She'd never match Claude, or the Haitian. But it wouldn't be tough to match Eden. She was too wild and controlling.

Ironic. Now his latest partner was docile and yet had one of the deadliest (by nature, at least. Many powers could be used to kill) powers yet. He had her demonstrate range of control, once they were in the observation room, and merely nodded. Unaware of what to do, he had her sent off to her hotel.

And placed a call.

"Bob, she's too inexperienced. You can't send her out in the field. She doesn't belong here. Not yet." Noah paced back and forth across the floor of his office.

"Look Noah, you no longer have the authority you once did. I'm making the call on this." Bob barked into the phone finitely.

"You're doing to her what you did to your daughter! You're moving too fast!" Noah really was scared for this poor girl. _Damn my need to be protective…No, no Noah! You're being drawn in again. Compassion is good._

"Again, Noah. You don't have your own little cell of specials and scientists anymore. What are you going to do?" Bob always had a way of never sounding sarcastic, coming out sincere.

"I…don't know. You could at least respect my seniority, Mr. Bishop." Noah demanded, nonetheless, with the familiar authority of the group leader he once was (and, nominally, still was).

"I am. You are the best suited to become the next step in the Company's plan to get back to where we were. We need the Haitian. Half of these villains, if not all of them, are mad at us more specifically then the world at large. We were aware of this risk, but with the Haitian's power and his great range of control…." Little more needed to be said.

"He's been rather elusive lately. You would think you wouldn't risk the limits of the highest manifesting special in history. There's something more going on here. You know my partner was assigned to me for a reason, as was this mission. What else do you want with the Haitian?" Noah pondered suspiciously.

"Just bring him in. That's all Maya's been instructed to do, as well." Bob Bishop hung up the phone, finishing the first sentence: _dead or alive._ And Noah was too close to him, to do that. Maya, she knew what was what.

Maya sat and managed more clear tears. Clear as crystal. That was how obvious it should've been to her that Gabriel was nothing more than a…Sylar. That name was synonymous with her grief, with bastard, murderer, and any other word that embodied evil.

She would kill him. No matter what the cost. She would abandon this Bennet, abandon this mission with the Haitian and kill Sylar. No matter what. What he did to her…she was used, toyed with, and her brother was killed. She defied anyone to question her now.

Now, in her suite at Costa Verde, she didn't care. If she was a villain or a hero, she would not go down. Not until Sylar died. She lay down on her pillow resolved. Tomorrow, New York was her dominion. And Sylar was

A wry, evil grin spread across her tanned face.

Across the hall, a blond haired girl checked in. Elle Bishop was haunting her symbol of redemption like a ghost. She knew as well as Noah that Maya wasn't prepared. He father was just too desperate. And she had to get even with the Haitian, herself. She sensed killing in the future, and dreamt a pleasurable dream. Involving what but death, of course?

KIRBY PLAZA, ROUGHLY 5 MONTHS EARLIER

Sylar felt the sword gorge him. _So this was death, eh? Interesting._ His eyes glazed over as he used some telekinesis to slow and hinder the sword, redirecting it within his organs so he survived. His durability wasn't perfect, but it allowed him to survive and merely lapse into unconsciousness.

_Won't that geek be surprised. Believes in fate, hah! I am my own fate, and he is his. And he being who he his, and committing that act, deserves his death. That'll tech him to 'interpret' Isa-…my…power. It is all too literal for them to bear._ And he slumped down, over the sewer.

Claude Rains laughed, muffled in a jacket, at the goings on. These heroes actually thought it was over. Such pathetic remnant, they had left behind. That selfish bastard Petrelli and his brother, nothing as long as they were under their mom's eyes. There was only one savior, and he probably, Claude had figured, had multiple powers.

And guess who was the horse, the mustang free from reins? Claude walked over to the sewer, examined the blood on it, and swatted the cockroach crawling across. "Can't believe I'm aiding the bloody villain." He grunted, dragging the body into the sewer.

This was all planned. Candice Wilmer, Michelle, or whatever alias she was under would find him at the repository near Ellis Island and, due to his anonymous tip, she would try to redeem herself to that fake Company by going to the location they had now abandoned, the medical facility where they had taken her to relieve her psychological disorder before she went into the field.

This had almost become too predictable. Not easy, but humorous. His dry wit attributed itself due to his ease in manipulation and frustration in trying to constantly destroy the Company. And whether that happened first or he freed Diane, the other would soon follow. And Claude Rains would redeem himself, fulfill himself. And he'd be through with this, though the world never would.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK. PRESENT DAY.

Maya arrived in New York. She had set up a beacon towards Sylar. She did this by visiting the one man she was sure Sylar would come towards: Mohinder Suresh. She almost felt sorry that this might wind up in the death of this scientist who 'saved' her. Though really, he was just doctor administrating a cure…_why am I trying to justify what I'm doing? I'm killing Sylar. That is a good work. If a vicious killer's been my legacy so far, I might as well be one._

"Greetings, Dr. Suresh." Maya stuck her head in an open door. She found a room disassembled, phone numbers, drawings by Molly, scientific miscellania, and books, it all melded together into a small mountain at the foot of a chair. And there, head down, was Dr. Suresh.

"Maya? Why are you here? This place is dangerous. For you, abandoning the mission, and me, for abandoning the Company altogether. I have a killer on my back and I had to give up my protector to protect…Molly." He broke down, clearly distraught. He was ready, it seemed, to die. Or face dire consequence.

_Good. _Maya continued to speak. "I'm so sorry." She opened, closing the door and beginning to trash the trash into empty bins, unused by the eccentric man.

"I feel sorry for you. I didn't heal you to get sucked in again." Mohinder looked at her with the look of pity. He was a man fulfilled as long as Molly was safe.

At this she straightened abrupt, locked her eyes in on his. "So now you have control over me, Mohinder? Sylar controlled me once; I won't be controlled again, by any man. My emotions led me to become a hero! I killed, but I killed villains. Illegal mobsters, a cheating wife. Now I will…kill...an evil man." She broke down in tears that went from gray to ominous ebony rather fast.

"You…speak…of control…and this proves you have none." Mohinder battled the deadly drops that rolled down his brown skin, collapsing in his own trash. Destroyed, devastated, he seemed as if death was the only step left in his decay.

"I will not kill you. I'm so sorry." She managed after a long battle. And that it was. She was just too emotional of a woman; many thought her _loco_ before, in jest and in all seriousness, back home.

Mohinder narrowed his eyes in a skeptical glance. "If you dragged me here to bait Sylar, you realize you WILL kill me?" He rose with limpness from the near-death experience.

"No, no sir. He must have my brother's power. But if we both have guns, and my power, it will require great focus for him to not die." Maya stated, ignorant of Sylar's prior great feats and with the confidence of Nike herself.

"Then he will kill me to retaliate. And it's all the same." He sunk down into the chair again. It was all over for him. _Indeed._ Thought Sylar from the elevator he ascended as he used his hearing to probe for any threats. The scientist and the girl…both interesting catches.

The girl, of course, would provide him with an awesome power that would make any hero about to attack him wary. The scientist made it all come full circle. The father had provided the beginning of his ascent, and the son the beginning of the descent of every other hero in existence.

Sylar opened the door. The two tensed up, drew guns. He chuckled. Such dramatics. Such a showdown. It always came down to it, didn't it? He supposed it was human's need for dramatics, romantics. He could never finish it with a quick ambush anymore. But it did make it more enjoyable.

"Hello, Sylar." She said the word with a grimace. A hint of 'how-could-you-betray-me?' and a grim and all too dark resolve.

"It's Gabriel." He said with a condescending tone and a mock-friendly smile. He even hung up his coat in the process. As if it was no more then a routine visit. He certainly wasn't new to killing and that was certainly his plan here.

"You're no angel!" She shouted angrily.

"The angel of death, maybe." Mohinder's quip of anger accompanied his brushing off of bangs, defiantly. His hand quivered on the trigger, not from indecision but from weakness of body.

Sylar sensed this and wrenched the gun to the floor with telekinesis. Maya retaliated with a mere gaze that soon was permeated by black ooze. Sylar strode forward and laughed. "That's rich, Mohinder. Right, Maya? Like your fabled city of gold…." He smirked at the bad pun even while sinking down to the floor, Mohinder beside him.

Maya looked down at him, cocked the gun and delivered her bit. "As YOUR American cowboys would say: Adios, Amigo." And she fired her bullet.

Suddenly, Sylar's eyes unblackened. So did Mohinder's. Apparently the scientist wasn't wished dead, or Sylar didn't have that large of control yet. Simultaneously, the bullet stopped midair.

"If we're cowboys, then Esto solamente non tu dia, Maya." He laughed viciously. "Did I say that right?" He made it apparent it didn't matter. "Anyway…I think your problem is, you're a bit too…cold-hearted." Inside of Maya, a chilling sensation spread. Not in her spine, but in her heart. No more thudding. She collapsed to the floor, muttering. One word. One name.

"Alejandro."

Sylar disposed of the body with rather chilling precision, and turned to the shocked, and figuratively frozen himself, Mohinder. "Alrighty, Company man. Let's get to work." Mohinder glared but merely nodded.

"Stay here. I'll be right back. There's much to do before I eliminate the cheerleader and the Company from our lives. That's what you want, isn't it? No fetters, no shackles on your studies by a certain Bishop? Eh?" Mohinder nodded uneasily.

"Don't worry. I'm not killing anyone...or any more…at least, not tonight!" He laughed as he strung Mohinder along. He moved over, opened the window, and flew off.

All was quiet in Costa Verde. A certain cheerleader frequently met a certain counselor, a certain ex-manager hated his job, and a certain killer watched over his girlfriend. A normal sunny day in California. And ironically, on the radio attached to a car approaching the Bennet/Butler house blared _Dani California._

"Rest in peace." Elle Bishop spoke along with the lyrics, as she turned off the ignition. And turned on hers. An energy ball reamed in her hand. Sandra Bennet had left shopping, and then walk with Mr. Muggles; Claire was at cheerleading, and Lyle at baseball. Only her target was left: Noah.

She caught him at a good time. Watching TV, the news. She couldn't tell, as static blared when she walked in. Noah turned around and nearly choked on his beverage he was drinking. "Be careful out there, Noah. Wouldn't want you dead, like your partner.

"Hello Elle. Why do…what the…" He wielded his glass of water threateningly. The news came as an honest shock to him. He said so, and more. "…and I just assumed Bob took my word."

"You know my dad. He's stubborn." She gave a kindly seeming gesture that didn't fool the wary Noah. It was all justified when her next words exploded like a powder keg. "Like he is about forgiving me!"

She snaked the electricity towards him. Her voice quieted with rage that was determined, focused. "I could care less what you think of me now, what he thinks of me. About the weak Mexican lady who represented my redemption. But I care about killing. And the only way I'll ever do a mission again is to please him. And you and the Haitian, regardless of whether you're working together, cause him particular trouble right now. He'd be happy if you died right now."

Noah grinned at his recent opportunity brought about by her carelessness. The sadistic obsession of the girl led way to a harmful conclusion for her. His smile slipped when he realized how cold he had just become, but regained it when he remembered that morally gray really just meant justifying acts normally criminal. And spilled his glass on her electric weapon.

The energy built up flew Elle towards the front door and eventually, out of it. "Stay away from my daughter, and my life. You know your dad's so cold, he won't care. I told you how you are nothing more then an employee to him. Just like me." Just as the sociopath shell began to crack, and a little girl battled through to the surface, something happened. Maybe it struck a balance in Elle, but that girl never came all the way out.

West was waiting in the bushes. He had spotted Elle when she made sure Claire was cheerleading, and followed the car back here. He had no love for Bennett, but at least he protected Claire. He had more hate, anyways, for the Company, and the girl who harmed his girlfriend. As he gently landed, he muttered. "Electric girl better say some prayers."

In her weakest moment, he fired. Elle was instantly pushed down by Noah, and watched on in amazement as Mr. Bennett turned around and fired at the sky which enveloped the speck that was West like a blanket all too fast. Elle watched on in amazement.

"We both have something to prove. Can you work with a man who didn't protect his partner?"

"If you can work with a sadist."

"I think I can"

In a cemetery in Japan, there lies an unmarked grave. The tombstone is now broken. Rubble lies on the dirt nearby. A bench is in a grove of trees, far off and two figures speak. "Thank you." A raspy voice utters. "I don't know how much longer I could've taken without…well, certain maladies of the mind are even beyond me."

"Well, I never pretended I was in favor of you, but I never despised you as much as the rest. I learned to love you."

"Well, thanks to my plan, we've thwarted time. Take that, carp." Adam Monroe snapped at the air.

"Whom are you talking to?" The ever-grammatic woman pondered and questioned with a gentle, near-seductive whisper.

"Hiro Nakamura." He spat with bitter tongue.

"Nakamura…"

"…Yes. Like our old associate. I hated him because his son is a time traveler. Hiro destroyed the love of my life." He almost broke his smooth façade at the thought of Yaeko. Regardless of his adventures in love, he somehow thought that that one would've made it all better.

"I thought that was me." The woman didn't seem hurt, more like she was reminding him.

"Yes, now it is. But when you didn't wind up dead on that rooftop, but unconscious, we could affect the future in a small enough way Hiro never knew it." Adam smiled with glee at the thought of outwitting the Nakamura clan.

"I laid low for you. I could've been famous. Helped you guys at the Company."

"It was best they thought you dead…Ms. Gramble, or should I say…Mrs. Monroe. Victor y is mine, thanks to you." He nestled his neck in hers, their lips interlocked, and it was perfect picnic for the newlyweds.

_Next, on Heroes._

_Matt: "Peter- no, no Peter no!"_

_West: "You have another think coming."_

_A woman's voice: "It's the only way to make sure we're safe forever."_


	7. Darkness and Light

_West: "You have another think coming."_

_A woman's voice: "It's the only way to make sure we're safe forever."_

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter Seven: Darkness and Light 

Claude Rains: _I've seen the_ _world. I know that good and evil exists. Almost in companionship, a yin-yang if you will. I've been accused of being both, but I find that the gray people, the morally gray such as myself. They, they are the most 'human'. The gray people exhibit both equally, and are the ones with the greatest self-awareness, the most moral, spiritual, and grounded. _

_Blacks and whites, evils and goods, darkness and lights, are often more powerful. But at what cost? Sure, they balance the world more then the grays (who merely blend in), but they have no internal balance. Often they only see one side of things. And regardless of intent, all grays are open-minded. More panicked, sure. But we need justification, to do both charity and crime._

_There is a balance. And wherever balance exists, things, extraordinary things, happen._

Matt Parkman left work and steadily, but quickly, paced towards the subway. Ever since the scare Mohinder had, he ordered that Matt and Molly find another apartment and divide. Aside from Peter and Claire, those two, felt Mohinder, were the powers Sylar would want. Which meant he'd likely attack them first to get Claire and Peter.

Speaking of Peter…Matt paused as he scanned the crowd. Was he there? No one knew where he or she lived, now, but he did work at the same place, though Molly did change schools during the move. And as he turned around, Peter Petrelli was right there.

"Peter?" Matt questioned quietly with a whisper, looking about to assure their safety. He was slightly shocked to find him here.

"Matt, we were wrong. I was wrong. About everything." Peter Petrelli spoke, panicked. He gestured and they headed into an alley for privacy.

"About what?" Matt was worried, about Molly and the urgency in Peter's voice. He demanded the answer out of him through his sheer personality in those two words he spoke, like he did…before he had his power. Maybe that was why he had what he had. It sure explained things, such as Peter's empathy due to kindness. Nathan was stressed and wanted to escape: he got flight.

Soon Peter's face froze up into a steely glare. "About working with you." And suddenly, with a wave of Peter's finger, it felt to Matt as if he nicked himself shaving his neck and soon, a slit appeared across his throat, widening like a zipper to kill him. Matt was appalled. Why would Peter use Sylar's power to kill him? It didn't….

He begged with his last breath. "Peter- no, no Peter no!" But it was too late. He slumped over a garbage can. Dead. Betrayed.

Nikki Sanders is trapped in flame. _So ironic. _Her husband also died, snared by the hot fire. She could not escape. She could only pray that Micah and Molly did. Good Lord, the times had been rough enough for DL's family. Her side could barely be called one, and now Micah was left out there alone…

She wondered if this had been the right choice. She couldn't see, in her meditative state that made everything muddled but yet so slow before death, any other option. But given more time…would they have thought of something else? Or would Monica have died by then? She didn't know.

She was pretty sure it was a hallucination, but she saw the flames die down. A shadowy figure, looking weary, dragged herself towards Nikki. It was then when she fell to the floor, miraculously not on any flames but further blackening her vision.

This sweaty figure picked up Nikki's light, limp, limber form and dragged it outside, a path carved amongst the flames, just for them it seemed. Once outside, the woman mumbled. "They'll get suspicious…though most of the flames were kept…but I did have to die it down so we didn't explode…damn exhilaration and exhaustion making me pant…here goes." And the flames instantaneously, without warning, sprung up full force.

The building exploded. Micah and Monica looked on in horror. Through a window before they ducked, the two women could see the scene. Nikki managed some words. "Thank you…"

The woman gasped back. "…Meredith. Meredith Gordon." Nikki collapsed, exhausted. The other had a long way to the vehicle. And, given her exertion, did not look forward to the walk carrying another woman. Meredith was, at least, glad that the woman blacked out. Otherwise, she would have to be knocked out with driftwood.

At the lunchroom, a heated debate ensued. "C'mon Claire. You rarely go out with us, and now you can't sit with us here at lunch? The courtyard is for losers, anyway." Never mind that Claire Butler used to be one of those losers.

Claire Bennett struggled to find a law. "Naw, it's not that. Y'know Mr. Kirkoff? Well, I'm not doing too good in his class, and well, I already told you about my parents." Not far from the truth, she had said they were obsessive about grades and sheltering.

"So?" The cheerleader questioned, kindly but needing more.

"Well, he agreed to tutor me, but it had to be during lunch, and outside. Cause it couldn't be in here and his is a shared classroom…." They all nodded understandably, and she was free. Skipping, practically, she went outside to the far edge where a familiar dark skinned man met her.

She had met him for a purpose. He met her for a purpose. They stood silently. It was like therapy, the kind glances, them watching nature. "So? Aren't you going to speak first?" She giggled as she asked.

"Why would I?" He grinned at her, dangling his necklace between his fingers as his gaze swept over the small rock garden the school had.

"Well, um…why do I have to choose? I can't choose." She frustrated pointed out, swallowing some Gatorade.

"Physically?" He joked, again with few words. The man was impossible when he wanted to be. But he was wise, he had reasons, and he was serene, and that's what caused it. That was one of the reasons she liked these meetings.

"Well, I can't understand why, either." Claire gestured to him, trying to urge more out of him. She really loved West, and Noah and Uncle Peter, too, as family of course. And the Haitian was very therapeutic for her and a great defense in the world of specials.

"All of them of other goals besides protecting you. And all goals manage to clash." Every word he said sounded as if it came out of Confucius, or would later be written down. As some proverb or another.

"Well, then I'll need to know yours." She asked sincerely. At those words she observed a change in him. His coat flew on. He ran off, not scared but steady. "Goodbye." He merely said, and she was sure this would never again happen. Did she offend him? Or did he have some pressing matters somewhere?

She shrugged it off, brushed past a blond-haired girl, and went to her table.

Nikki woke up in a cell. She knew not where. There were no windows, and as she continuously punched the walls, they thudded but nothing more. These people had done their research, whoever they were. They probably weren't the Company, she assumed, due to the dingy walls and general depredation of the place.

The only furnishings in the room were a small toilet and a wide bench, which was thrown against the wall in the opposite corner from the toilet, facing the door. As if it were a bed, a blanket and comforter were draped across it, and a pillow were strewn on the ground, from when she got up.

"Meredith?" She shouted out, wondering if the woman was her captor or if she was also a prisoner. She did not need to wait too long before she received a reply.

"Yes, Nikki?" Meredith didn't sound distraught, and likely right outside the barred, locked door. Nikki assumed, then, she must be Meredith's captive.

"How do you know my name?" Nikki asked. There were a million other, smarter questions. But that was the instinctual reflex response.

"Nana Dawson. She's been very useful as a contact. Of course, she IS older and has no power…" Her captor trailed off into another train of thought, mumbling a name in a low voice before becoming audible, though barely. "…Wouldn't want me to tell you, but you are going to help us, or die. So it doesn't matter."

"Why haven't you taken me earlier?" Nana had been at her wedding, and certainly had known about her power sometime during their brief marriage.

"No one needed to know about me…and my allies until we were ready." Meredith tried to remain cryptic and didn't sound nervous anymore. That was a question, or at least an answer she had expected to give.

"Ok…when will I be let out, if I'm supposed to help you?" Nikki tried to understand what was going on, but was too much driven by her need to see Micah. And it was never good to be unaware of the situation.

"Oh, trust me. You're being held for a reason." Meredith said, all too cold. Nikki began to feel slightly threatened, regardless of whether this woman had saved her life.

And with that Nikki rammed all her strength into the wall. Small bits flew, but little impact was made. She continued to battle-ram her body, and then she noticed in her smell as she wound up for a fifth charge, a damp and dank smell.

Soon water slowly trickled into the cell, seemingly from nowhere. It grew steadily, hindering Nikki until a faint crack was all she could manage before it climbed up her chest, reaching her neck she doggy-paddled until her energy was spent, and she passed out.

The last she heard was a woman's voice. Not Meredith's, more calm, more kind. "Sorry, Nikki."

Noah Bennett is pacing in his home office. Home duty…the dread of any Company employee. The dread of Noah Bennett, however, was his working with a sadist. His inability to stand up, once again, against the Company. His moral decline leading to no word from the ever-elusive Haitian.

He drifted upstairs, and found himself in Claire's room. She was studying for her Human Bio mid-term, and she glanced up from her bed where her body and the heavy textbook made a deep impression in the bed. He sat on the edge, uneasy.

"Oh...hey." She said nervously, obviously stressed. He assumed it was over finals. She, however, was puzzling over the Haitian. They both were, and they didn't know it.

"Can I talk to you?" He gestured uncomfortably, near feebly. The first time Claire had ever sensed that in his voice.

"I guess." She gave that noncommittal teenage answer simple with a flip of her head on her shoulders to face him.

"Well, I'd like to be there for you, but I've got some problems too." Noah said reluctantly. It was odd, a parent talking to his daughter like that. But they were pretty close…at least, they were. And without the Haitian's silence to be his buffer, Claire was the only one he could talk to about his world.

"Yeah, tell me about it." She sounded all-too-familiar with this feeling. Ah well, he supposed midterms in your senior year could do that to you. He tried to remember his senior year, and drew blanks. _Though it's not as if they were removed. _Maybe it was about his secure, protective manner lately, now that they should've been 'safe'.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I don't know why I haven't let you go out with your friends, but I guess I was just too used to guarding you." He really couldn't see the reason, now that his head was clear, to be strict on anything but the average parent, and that was usually regarding dating and the car.

"Thank you Dad." She said sincerely, but not too joyfully, adjusting her gaze back to her textbook. He sensed there was something more, but plunged into his problems, fighting to get the words out.

"With Elle and I searching for the Haitian...not finding me, I'm being ignored at the Company, and because if it, someone died…I let someone die. Unknowingly, but it's even worse then killing someone. It knows they died when you could've saved them. That's…how I feel about you. I just want you safe, life as close to normal as it ever was, and as long as the Company exists, that can't happen."

She straightened her shoulders and put her hands on her chin, excited and looking at him. "You want to get out, don't you?" She said with hope and teasing joy all at once. It seemed right between them for now.

"Yes. Can you forgive me, Claire-Bear?"

"Of course Dad." Thinking back on the Haitian's words, and knowing right now, as they hugged, it all was clear to her. Whispering in words she thought too faint for her dad to hear, she spoke. "I choose you."

"Whatever that means." He said with a grin. _Whoops. He did_. She chuckled and laughed it off as he went downstairs, with a spring in his step, and she went back to homework.

West was outside the window, floating on the wind, carefree, trying to relax after his ordeal in the world of heroes. Not to mention midterms. He flew by the Butlers, checking up on his unofficial girlfriend. Unfortunately, he didn't hear it all. He didn't care for the Company, but he more importantly didn't want the heroes out in the open.

He muttered. "It doesn't matter whether you're with them, or against them. If you are going to let them know about me, or Claire, you have another think coming."

Nikki woke to a wide room. It looked like a warehouse, devoid of boxes. Into her vision came two boxes, with two women sitting on them. One was Meredith, the other unknown. The other woman was dark haired, not quite assuredly black or brown, probably a dark walnut, and likely in her late 40's.

"Hello, Nikki. I'm Diane." And she recognized the voice that almost drowned her. Why? Why? This whole mess was a frickin' puzzle she couldn't solve. And it was maddening. _What else is new? Certainly not being mad. _She chuckled at her own thoughts.

Meredith spoke next. "I know things have been confusing, but we trust you won't do anything to us after our first two displays of strength." She smiled with all the assumed kindness

"That was you…with the fire?" Nikki's eyes widened. She wasn't utterly dumbfounded and barely was she amazed, but to confirm her hazy hallucination, well that truth was slightly shocking.

"Well, I certainly didn't start it. If that were so, I'd expect to be dead by now. I certainly couldn't live with being captured by my killer. But yes, I do have pyrokinesis." Meredith spoke with a lazy air.

"I'm Diane. Hydrokinesis. We need your help. To stop the Company." The woman stressed seriousness.

"Well, seeing as they think me dead, I'm in the perfect position to do so." Nikki commented wryly, sitting up from her spot, which had been lying down on two crates.

"Exactly." Diane grinned, seemingly at nothing, to the right of Nikki. "That's what we thought."

Meredith continued. And Nikki really, somehow, hated this woman more even though she had saved Nikki and the other almost killed her. She was practically a bum, at least that was the impression Nikki got. "Anyways, there is something specific going on. Pandora's Box was the Company's holding facility for dangerous heroes. Recently, Bob Bishop ordered that security be relaxed, warranting escape for many of these villains who had not given up yet."

Diane continued. "This information, of course, must be held in the strictest confidence. Only Bob, Angela Petrelli, Noah Bennett and the Pandora's warden are aware of this, except, obviously, for any intelligent guard and the escaped villains."

"How are you aware of this, then?" Nikki wondered, leaning forward and now interested.

"I'm one of them." Diane grinned, though not chillingly, more like a joke. Meredith actually laughed at the thought, so Nikki managed to relax her tensed muscles. "It's only because I was so heavily anti-Company. I'm sure you know the type. More…misunderstood."

"But of course, she is the exception. The rest are diabolical villains with the worst in mind. Us two, and anyone that is working with us, which is classified information, are trying to take down these villains before they reach other heroes, so the heroes can focus on taking down the Company." Meredith stretched afterwards as though she had known this so long it bored her to repeat.

"We, however, only know for sure that two escaped: Knox Washington; alias Knox Underhill, and Levi Corran." The last name warranted a shudder from both G.I. Jane-tough women. Which frankly shocked Nikki.

But not as much as the first name. She remembered it from DL's past. And if he returned to New Orleans...Micah, Monica, Nana and Damon were in trouble. "Let's go to New Orleans." She got up.

"I'm sorry…but Levi is a higher priority." She gasped at Diane's words, reeling back a fist with her super-speed and ready to slam her strong fists towards one of them. And it was caught, seemingly by the air.

"Look, love. It's not that we don't care about your family. We do. But it's best they firstly, do not know of this, and secondly, are safe from Levi, who unlike Knox will actually pursue them. Knox never kills anyone that's not in his way." Out of the voice the dark, scraggly, unkempt figure of the sardonic Claude Rains appeared.

"Levi's more important." Diane stepped near Claude, arm around his shoulders. "Trust us, Nana will keep them safe. And wasn't…" She turned towards Meredith as Nikki's hand went limp.

"…Yes." Responded Meredith, looking at a BlackBerry. "Last report from Nana shows that a Dr. Suresh had arrived with a special. Molly Walker."

"And I'm sure they'll help too." Diane spoke assuredly, comforting. She offered her hand to Nikki. "You in?"

"I'm in."

**Hana? **Micah typed into the Corinthian Casino website, as well as a random Word document and their newer meeting spot in an effort to contact her.

**I'm here. Where else can I be? I'm dead in real life. **Hana replied. For once. Despite her comment, which was true, she didn't always answer.

Micah grimaced at her cynicism, but knew it was only for the best. **There's another one of us! He said he can help, and he'll meet me later.** Since then, Micah had practically lived in the library, utilizing snack machines and his small body to stay even though nights.

**Be careful Micah. What was he like? **Hana knew that many people with abilities were corrupt. Too many…

**Calming. **As Micah thought about it, that really did fit this guy. Whoever he was.

**Uh-oh. **Micah was shocked by the response. As was Hana, wondering if she was too paranoid to be that accurate and acute on pinpointing Richard. _A technopath AND Zen-like... good enough odds._

**What's so bad about that?** Micah wondered.

**This man's name is Richard Drucker. He's dangerous. **She would say nothing more.

**How so? **Apparently Hana DID has somewhere to go, because no reply followed. Suddenly, panic gripped Micah. There was no Nana here, his parents, Monica, Molly. All gone, and he was supposed to meet a stranger soon.

A man walked towards Micah, and Micah shrunk down in his seat. "I'm looking for Micah Sanders, that you?" The man walked up to him.

"Mr. Drucker?" Micah mustered all the fake bravado a pre-teen could ever have, one hand on a thick copy of a dictionary he had been reading, as a possible weapon. Just cause he was skipping didn't mean he couldn't learn.

"No, but where did you hear that name?" The man looked quizzically at him.

"Where did you hear mine?" Micah asked back with all the speed of a kid spending too much time playing chess in the park.

"Fair enough question. My employer, said Mr. Drucker, traced the IP address and through your library card, who's using this." The man answered as if it was simple.

"OK…." Micah didn't know where this was going and turned back to his Internet window.

"Ah…. Spanish. You learning?" The man seemed genuinely interested.

"You speak it?" Micah responded sarcastically, done with all of this and ready to find his way to Mohinder and Molly in New York.

"That and a billion others. Micah, I'm a special. I can comprehend, read, write, and speak any language that exists, real or fictitious. I can help you learn about the world, the globe will be your horizon, and Mr. Drucker can train your abilities. You'll be a hero." The man urged on. 

Micah relaxed, but turning around to face him he was still saddened and suspicious. "Why'd you say it'd be OK? My mom is dead, my cousin is too, and they're all I have left."

"Well, I work for a group called the Guardians, and a few of them saved your mom." The man leaned in, like an uncle relaying the news to a nephew about his dad coming home.

"Really?" Micah brightened, his smile rampant across his face, as he got up.

"You bet. There's even proof." He held up what looked like a surveillance tape, and as he talked to it, it said his mom was in a warehouse, at first she fought them but now she'll help this invisible guy and two women.

"Ok, then Mr.…." Micah gestured, handing the tape back. Not knowing his name, he left the end dangling.

"Traveler. Just Traveler." The man took the tape from Micah, shook his hand as if they had just met. Which they had.

"An apt name." Micah analyzed. Excited, he continued. "So is this like the Justice League or something? When can I see my mom?"

"Oh, no little man." Micah winced at the reminder of his height. "You can't see you mom, you need to go to Bhutan to train. And your mom might…split again, or at least get angry if she learned we had you. You need to be brave and just let go. You will see her, I promise."

"Ok…." This all seemed too odd, but as they walked out, Micah felt as if something was going right for once.

"You heard from Traveler?" Diane whispered to Claude as they entered the main room, where Meredith and Nikki already were.

"Yeah, he picked up her kid. This'll be good for them. They need to not be so dependant on family. Look at Meredith, and us. Hell, look at Drucker. And with this girl's power, emotional toughness is needed to be trained…more then ever." Clause grimaced at having to give a speech to explain this.

"Do you really want to do this, Claude?" Diane was so unsure. People got hurt when you stood up for something. She only had to look at the encounter with Bennett, when she was found and Claude ejected from the Company.

"This thing, or the villain thing? Either way, it's the only way to make sure you're safe forever." Claude spoke with genuine love.

"It's the only way to make sure Claire's safe forever." Meredith interjected.

"And Micah." Nikki gritted, determined and battle-ready. Diane shied away from what they were doing to her.

"We have the yin to your yang, and a new asset on our side. It's time to strike. We're the only ones who know…about the villains, about Levi." Claude pleaded his case to Diane.

"I guess we'd been run into Levi…before Sylar does." Diane said, stoned-faced. And the four Guardians were ready to go on a manhunt.

_Next, on Heroes._

_Hiro: "I must make my choice. Once I have saved the world, should I change it?"_

_Kaito: "All right…I will join you."_

_An unknown man: "Catch me, catch me if you can. You only wish, Harry Fletcher, I was a mere gingerbread man." (Harry is then shown, choking)_

_Victoria Pratt: "You two are still at odds!"_


	8. Dawn, Pt 1

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

**Chapter Eight: Dawn**

Adam Monroe: _It had been awhile, I must admit, back in 1976. I was a glorified messenger, a metaphorical baton passed between Kenton Tech in Land's End, England and Yammagato Industries in Tokyo, Japan. But I had my own interests in Japan. Something told me that Hiro Nakamura was likely to show up soon, and I could prevent him from traveling back in time, changing time and saving my beloved. Perhaps I was delusional, though with my clear mind and God-like abilities, I can't see how. I convinced myself that Yaeko would somehow change everything._

_And then, when I discovered Hiro had already been to the past, I resolved to change time, warp time, create a paradox, or do anything to beat him at his own game. _

_But back then; I was sick and tired of looking for love. Hell, I'd killed Theresa and hadn't met Trina until the Company started, though I did meet her separate of the Company. I had been, for far too long, sick of adventure. I was starting to look for heroes, instead. I was not aware of empathy yet, and was sure that I could lead a group and, unlike it happened to turn out, no one would research 'collective aid' and thus find out not only our strengths and ties between powers, but weaknesses as they found mine._

_Through that, I could rule the world, cleanse it and lead the specials to their just reward. Of course, I didn't come on that strong, and back then that was a higher call then mere revenge against Hiro. Like I said, I was sick of love, and thus my rage at the time was rather small. I'd had too many years to think about it. _

_Empaths like Petrelli and Fletcher, villains like Corran and thugs such as Parkman soon made me aware of stronger heroes. And soon, I found myself having to manipulate them with wit increasingly, and in my crazed fervor to convince them of my goals, my mind turned to Hiro._

_What is love? What is adventure? What is insane? What is life? What is death? What is its worth? What use are plans? What is chance? Who is god? _

_The oft laid plans of mice and men, gang aft agley__.(The best laid plans of mice and men, oft go awry) I helped come up with that._

Hiro saw that in the fall of 1976 a date book at Kaito's house, stating tomorrow an Adam Monroe met with Kaito and his then-superior in Yammagato Industries to discuss involvement with Kenton Tech, a British company.

The meeting took place in a regular room, and Hiro chameleoned himself into a corner. Adam opened with his suave and usual annoying manner. "Monroe. Adam Monroe. Kenton Industries." He greeted them, of course, in Japanese.

"And what can Yammagato software do for you?" The superior, listed as Mr. Kauri, asked Adam pointedly, clearly a man rather stressed. Likely this was before the company calisthenics, either by time of day or before the practice even began.

"I'm more interested in the future of this company as a whole, Kauri-san. Ethical business relations between your software and Kenton machinery could work out well for us." But the words were directed right at Kaito, who Adam took interest in. _He looks not too much like Hiro, but the same name…and slight resemblance…_Adam managed to look at the boss, despite Kaito asking the next question.

"Perhaps you would also be interested, then, in our financial and business services." Kaito was ever the great salesperson. Never was actually doing any software work, like Hiro once (and technically, still) did.

"Yes, yes, that would be nice. But…" As further legalities and formalities and many stuff that Hiro didn't care for ensued, he decided to fast-forward time. At least, for him, by jumping forward by ten minutes in time until he reached the end.

As Mr. Kauri walked out, Kaito followed quickly behind, independent but always chasing the next promotion. Adam grabbed him by the shoulder. "Mr. Nakamura?"

"Mr. Monroe?" He turned around, polite but slightly annoyed. Hiro's father has always been tight with his schedule.

"I'd be pleased if you'd join me for at the Dragon's Lair for some sake, maybe some sushi or tempura. I have a business proposition I think you'd be interested in." Adam handed him a card for the address, and brushed past Kaito assuredly, as if he was better than Kaito.

Kaito look at it, shrugged, placed it in his pocket and went out. Hiro decided to follow Adam.

A few days ago, an old friend contacted Arthur Petrelli. One thing led to another, and the war buddies now gathered on a porch. "How are things, Austin?" 'Dallas' said simply, not a man of many words, even as a paralegal.

"Rather well, Dallas, but please. The war is over." The man smiled. "Call me Daniel. Daniel Linderman" Daniel looked at his friend from across the living room, expecting an answer and sipping his lemonade coolly.

Tightening his jacket from the frigid air – seemingly one of the only things able to put a dent in Dallas, as many knew him as a nickname nowadays. "Arthur. Arthur Petrelli." Just then, a young, vibrant woman almost suited to some charity work or another form public speaking emerged.

"Arthur, who is this? If I was expecting company I would've made some biscotti or something." The words seemed foreign to her, but it was obvious she was trying to remain a homemaker. She also seemed distressed about something.

"Daniel Linderman, I was a medic with Dallas in the war." Like many, he couldn't call Dallas anything but that. Arthur was almost a foreign word from this titan of a man. He was, in many eyes, as indestructible as steel.

"Hello. Nice to meet you." She seemed civil, but hard to get to know from her abrupt tone. "Arthur…it happened again."

"Do you mind me asking what?" Daniel lifted his head up in interest. He would do anything to help a stranger oftentimes, and thus much more for a friend. Or his wife.

"Very much so, ye-" Angela near to barked it, upset and frustrated, yelling as only woman can. But she was interrupted before she could…influence the men.

"It's alright, Angela. He has one too. She seems to have ability, a charismatic hypnosis. Attributed to her crisp way with words and her great speeches, but nowadays she can do more than inspire. She'd argue with me and I'd find myself agreeing suddenly, argue about the service at a restaurant and they'd get the hint, and she never spells it out." Dallas explained.

"What…can you do?" Angela ventured, going from attendant wife too sitting down across in the chair, gazing at him intently.

"Heal others. Look, Dallas. This can't trouble her any longer. We're bound to not be the only ones. There's likely criminals with powers, and poor troubled souls like Angela." She glared at him, he grinned back apologetically as if he could heal emotions, too.

"Yeah, so?" Dallas was a man of action. What could be done?

"I met a man while I was in the stock market. Name of Adam Monroe, he was working at Kenton Tech, a stock I invested heavily in. He has an idea." Daniel began to say it, but thought it best it sink in.

"Tell me more." Dallas and Angela sat back, Dallas with cool perspective and Angela with rapt attention.

Kaito reluctantly walked into the dimly lit restaurant. It wasn't actually that bad. Comfortable floor pillows, well-kept rugs, nice low glass tables. It just…wasn't well lit. He saw few people there. It didn't matter. He saw a distinguished man, brown haired, waving him over. He reluctantly followed.

"Hello...I'm Kaito Nakamura." He was unsure why he even opened with something that didn't ask the man who he was. But the other man seemed to read his confusion.

"Daniel Linderman. Adam will be here soon." Daniel shook his hand, and they sat, cross legged, on the mat.

"Oh." He nodded, pretending to understand and snacking on the complementary rice crackers and wasabi dip.

"You have an ability, don't you?" Daniel leaned in, as if to reveal a secret, slyly with a knowing smile.

"What do you mean?" Kaito put on his poker face. He knew how to act dumb, and he would deny to anyone who saw the incident that he merely tripped the thief, because it happened too fast for even him to understand what really went on.

"I saw…how you flipped that purse snatcher in the air with one hand." Well, apparently this man saw it. The window was a good objective; he supposed it provided a vantage point. Anything to reassure himself, that his odd ability was hidden still.

"Well…I saw it once. In a bad movie." Kaito came out with his only explanation for why it could've happened.

"Ah…so you...mimic?" Daniel comprehended with an erudite glance, not puzzled but as if the gearworks and cogs of his mind had just begun.

"Roughly." Kaito danced around the issue, still glad.

"Ah, there's Adam. I really do have to go, I'm planning on buying out a casino owner soon and I really just wanted to meet you quickly. I'm sure I'll see you soon." Daniel stood, began to exit, and placed his hand on Kaito's shoulders as if to say goodbye. Instantly his soreness went away.

"You're not alone, Kaito." He smirked at an unknown joke and then looked at him with a kindly grin, and then left. As Kaito wondered at that cryptic message before the joke, Adam walked in, ready as if he owned the place. Sitting swiftly down, they ordered drinks and sat in silence, after the initial greeting.

Adam opened with some regular business matters, and Kaito wondered if this was just a working dinner. But soon Adam delved into the darker aspects of business, the gray area and Kaito was rather unsure of whether it was even legal.

Kaito almost denied it, but agreed, uneasy but needing a promotion a seed of mistrust was planted. He was disabused of that idea when Adam made his next comment in a tone akin to Daniel's, and he felt safer about it all.

"I was thinking. We three have abilities…"

"You have one as well?"

"I'm about 600 years old. I can regenerate." Adam demonstrated, hitting the knife against his skin, where a small cut and large bruise appeared, and gradually oozed back to normal. The skin folded over itself, and the reddish hue of the bruise vanished.

"Amazing." Kaito wondered if he was telling the truth about his age, but reasoned it must be, if this man could heal any injury.

"We can make a difference…we can change the world. People like us need shelter, community, and to understand better who we are before we can do this. I'm sure you and others have felt shy about admitting this, and unsure about why or how you got this ability." Kaito nodded. He had helped many people, but tried to hide this ability that made him feel paranoid, like a freak each time it happened.

Adam continued. "And maybe, through a gradual search, we can do that. Form a group of heroes who defeat villains and aids new specials. And gain power through finances, through a company. Daniel is a businessman, and so are we."

Kaito merely nodded, unaware of what this led to. "All right, I will join you."

The year is 1977. Early in that year, and already the business venture known simply as 'The Company' already had thirteen people on the board, eleven of them specials, though one was a secret. Paula Gramble had a small power that she was very secretive about, though later she would divulge her power to her husband and a young researcher named Chandra Suresh. In addition to having interests such as art galas, casinos, and a law firm as their legal advisor (Petrelli Law Firm), as well as a small biotech research plant run by one Ms. Pratt and a once-floundering paper company called Primatech.

The first full board meeting was called to order by Adam Monroe. And Hiro was there to watch it all unfold. Kaito Nakamura took a seat, alongside an African American man. "Kaito Nakamura." He offered, still wary of Adam's shady business ways, but convinced by Linderman that it was for the greater good.

Charles Deveaux was always a friendly man, but he had a feeling this man and he were going to get along better than usual. "Charles Deveaux, nice too meet you." He spoke in a whisper before Adam officially began the meeting. He ran a nonprofit creative arts support group, the Deveaux Foundation, after a failed career as an author. He was Angela's friend from high school, they had even dated once.

After they had all introduced themselves, a woman spoke up. Her name was Courtney Reuben, and she had the power of transpassing, allowing her to phase through, see through, and hear through any material, though distance was, of course, a factor for the last two. "I know, unlike most of you, I have little place here. My family's owned deli's ever since I can remember, and I just run a community center after a brief stint in marketing…" She seemed almost apologetic, but unused to it. She rarely got off track like this.

"Nonsense. All of us have something to bring here." The man seemed unaware he had interrupted. The reassurance of Carlos Mendez, ex-actor and current film producer smiled with the slick grin of the 'player' character he had played too many times. He possessed cryokinesis, and his cockiness would be his demise one day, was the general consensus. It was good time to end a fabulous yet short career for the conservative Republican, who had clashed numerous times with the freethinking Hollywood extremes.

"…Anyway, as I was saying…" Flashing a 'thanks, but please let me talk' smile to Carlos, Courtney continued. "I was brought up to this position in this…mutual fund, group, coalition, business alliance, whatever…not just for my formidable ability, but my formidable foe." She seemed to cure Charles Deveaux, whom she at met when one of his art galas was taking place in Geist, Indiana at her community center, and thus the reason they were aware of her.

"All twelve of us must deal with this man. We believe his great love" And here the Spaniard Mendez smiled, "for Courtney, and her coupled rejection, drove him not only to hate her, but also become anti-hero and anti-Semitic, both of which Courtney is." He comforted Courtney, who picked up the terrible tale.

"We…had revealed our powers to each other…he has aerokinesis…and I guess when I found there were others I could confide my secret to, he wasn't worth it...he was no one special…" She sobbed slightly. No one dared laughed at the irony of the latter phrase. "He near to choked me, until the other hero saved me. Charles. Not with his power, and…so I'm here."

"He can use this wind to glide, and it very possible he is our only physical threat to our enterprise, as well as Courtney herself. He might know where we are, and we need to strike first. His name is Joab Flameworthy." A name Charles thought more apt for a soap opera romancer then a hardcore villain.

"We must uphold our honor!" Kaito rose suddenly, inspired as if ready to unleash his martial arts on Joab right now.

"And our business." It sounded as if a solemn pledge, but also a reminder from the mouth of Mr. Bishop as he nodded.

"And our ability." Daniel Linderman made those simple words a spellbinding speech with the stirring emotion as he rose as well.

In Indianapolis, twelve people gathered in various locations around an apartment building in Fischer, Indiana, which neighbored Geist. They were there to capture Joab Flameworthy. Team A spread out on a neighboring building, ready to shoot down any gliding with guns. These people were Arthur Petrelli, Victoria Pratt, and Paula Gramble.

Team B worked their way down from the roof, led by Adam Monroe, followed closely by Angela Petrelli, Daniel Linderman and tagging along like a lapdog, Maury Parkman. "Perimeter clear. Routine military check done, and hot zones now in range. I'll snipe, Vicki and Gamble have the angle." Crisp military tone spewed from the walkie-talkie, as Arthur ran this mission.

"Let nothing past you. Spread towards the elevators and stairs as you head down." Arthur was tough, ready. Maury followed Adam, while Angela went with Daniel, unaware of how true this pairing became in the future.

Team C received instruction next, and one of them from the middle of a wall. "C1. Check in." Courtney responded quickly, half-stealth and half-hiding from the upcoming battle. "Here."

"C2, C3, C4, C5 all there?" The rest of the group stood in the hall nearby, working their way from the floor, seeing as each group increased by likelihood of encountering the villain. Kaito, Bob, Charles, and Harry, respectively, squawked their response sharply, already one floor below his.

"I see his feet. He's here." Courtney came out of the wall and the all sighed with relief. Doing this again would test their patience of Dallas's absolute command. They proceeded to knock on his door. Charles spoke. Courtney phased back into the elevator, wary. She was told not to show herself if possible. She was the best of them in a sneak attack, but she could emotionally unbalance him.

And from Charles's words. "Mr. Flameworthy?" It all happened. Rather fast.

**_To Be Continued..._**


	9. Dawn, Pt 2

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

**Chapter Eight: Dawn**.

And from Charles's words. "Mr. Flameworthy?" It all happened. Rather fast.

A violent compression racked the air, and Bob Bishop tried without success to remove some invisible strain, and his neck bulged. Courtney spoke fast, while Kaito slid down a banister to try and escape the man's range, and cue Team B.

"Charles, that's how he kills. We need to distract him before he chokes Bob!" Harry, a fireman, had already broken down the door, and Charles rushed in, gun drawn and Harry as his backup. Charles went into the hallway, and before Harry could step around and see where Joab was, a compressed ball of air knocked the wind out

Harry, absorbing Joab's power, was incapable of attack for a while as he concentrated. Biding time for Team B, Courtney sunk below the floor and tripped Joab quickly. Joab's mind was sharp enough to comprehend as soon as Harry snapped into it.

"Who are you, and why is my girlfriend aiding you?" He suddenly conjured up a whirlwind around him to mask his true, specific location. He was obviously more adept with his power then any of them except Courtney, Adam, and maybe Daniel. Which made sense, seeing as both of them had been friends at 11 and probably experimented since. Daniel's manifested in his 20's, and the rest recently. Adam, of course, had 600 years.

"I'm Harry Fletcher. And I'm here to end your villainy, you bastard." The fiery ex-firefighter from down South quickly rose to the challenge of words. And soon, Bob collapsed in the hallway, free. It was now Harry's windpipe that was shrinking.

Adam and Maury arrived first on the scene. Adam flashed his sword, withdrawing it from the sheath and passing through the doorframe, Maury pausing to aid Bob and going in as well. He was unaware, yet, to do anything but read thoughts, and so he stayed back.

Adam went in. "Watc-" Maury's warning came almost too late as the whirlwind ceased and out of the rising dust, came two more stunners that Adam barely avoided. Joab appeared as if he could do only two things at once, and Maury confirmed that as he silently dragged Charles out of the way.

Adam followed Joab, a bit behind but trying to angle towards where Angela and Dan would soon come down. He nodded at the advice streaming from his hip from Dallas and the updates from Maury. Joab halted at the doorway into the stairwell.

"Looks like you made it out. Good show." Joab smirked, readying another assault.

"Hey, chap. I'm invincible. So give up." Adam remained cool, confident, ignoring the horrible hint of a British clip in the man's voice, which seemed to mock him by its nature.

"Don't give your power away, man. Cause now I'll do my best...just to hinder you." And at that, smaller, more numerous pellets of sheer air hurtled at the man and knocked him flat, woozy but not unconscious. And at that instant Angela and Daniel had their guns on the man's head.

Kaito joined them, leaping up the stairs from the other direction and trained to knock him senseless with his hands. Courtney popped in as well, and Kaito tackled Joab as she looked at him.

"What are we to do with him?" Angela asked, half taunting their threat and half asking the others. They WERE a council, after all.

"Trap him. Indefinitely. Let him taste helplessness." Hiro, as always silently following, nearly gasped at his father's remark. It seemed so vicious, so torturous, so inhumane…regardless of the fact he would remain alive. And then it became clear that that is what

"Adam's more experienced. Let him decide." Angela spoke calmly, sensing argument but wise enough not to use her power and make it all worse.

"No, we're all equals. What do you think, Daniel?" Kaito denied the thought of letting such an obvious lowlife (however old and experienced) decide solely for the group. He demanded Daniel's attention, hoping to get some backup on this.

"I'll shoot him here, but he's Courtney's foe…" Daniel opened the reply to Courtney, looking down at the man with cold-blooded hardness.

"I don't know, I don't-" Their costly indecision at her emotional moment was apparent, as soon Joab thrust a gale of wind, knocking them all off balance and glided out the window quickly. Riding on jet streams, he was propelled soon out of reach of even Dallas's expert marksmanship.

"Damnit!" Angela swore, emboldened by this whole venture and now open-faced and cold about many matters. She had gained respect of any who thought here a mere housewife who only got on the board due to here connection to Charles and Dallas.

"Now is not the time to break down." Kaito tried to select the right words. And soon, a response to that crackled through the walkie-talkies.

"He's right. It wouldn't be honorable to just turn on each other and all..." It was almost as if Dallas was begrudgingly agreeing, and mocking all at once. "…Because he escaped. We've been shamed, and the world has been put at threat, so we must go after him."

"Not now. Not yet, we're not ready." Courtney shuddered at how one man could defeat the twelve of them.

"Who are you to say who's ready?" Daniel questioned, perhaps upset it was not his advice followed in the first place.

"Settle down." The mere fact that anyone taking place in that failure couldn't say that revealed that Adam had returned. Reassuring, yet commanding. As if everything was in control. As if he was God.

"Listen. He hadn't caused much trouble anyways. Wait him out until he does something rash. We'll train, aye. For the day we send the bastard to hell." Adam added 'angel of death' to his unofficial monikers that seemed to attach to his tone.

"Alright then." No one remembered who said that. But they all nodded grimly, and cleaned up. Not to meet again for another month.

Charles Deveaux sat in his office in Manhattan. He'd seen the Petrellis rather recently, and Adam had been there. They'd done some training, however weak. Few of them had 'fighting powers' at all. Harry had obtained fire from a man who didn't have control of it. When Harry's crew had been called in to fight the fire, he absorbed it as the man died. Carlos, conversely, had ice control, and Kaito was a whiz at martial arts due to his power. And Adam could regenerate.

The rest of them…well maybe they weren't THAT weak. Dallas and Austin were in the Army, Parkman was an ex-cop. Then why, goddamn it, why couldn't they stop that soap-opera man? It frustrated him almost as much as things at his liberal arts foundation/company, The Deveaux Foundation.

He'd recently been infused with two new additions to low-level management at the Foundation. Unfortunately, they thought they were hot stuff. They were liaisons from Company HQ, currently headed by Pratt, Bishop, Monroe and Gramble, all of whom did not have other companies involved or, in the case of Pratt and Bishop, simply excelled at business.

He thought it was going to be more like a goddamn business alliance, a council of separate interests, or a small 'Justice League'. Not some mogul, some parasite that would permeate every aspect of his life and control it likes a dictator. Oh, sure, he was at its helm, but who cared about more influence when you only had 1/12 of that helm?

Charles was a disillusioned man. And so he placed a call to his friend in the Company. "Kaito, how are you?"

"What's wrong?" Kaito hated the Company's interference just as much, and assumed there was only need to call him if there was a threat.

"Nothing. But Kaito," he pleaded as the man would've likely hung up, "C'mon, I'm down. The Company's everywhere, and I just don't want to hear about it now."

"What can we do?" Kaito was distraught. His promotion had only brought on more stress, and he recently found out from a hired investigator discovered that Adam had gone under the alias of 'Richard Sanders' for many years. Which only made him wonder what, besides longevity, did he have to hide? It wouldn't shock him if Adam were a murderer.

"It's what I would've asked you." Charles sighed. It wasn't really Kaito's fault. It was his, for being so emotional and unstable. No wonder he was so involved in the arts.

"Well then, perhaps we form an alliance. A broad one, capture the majority of the board." Kaito had obviously thought on this problem, with little interference. He was in Japan, after all, and since Monroe had quit his job at Kenton Tech, not even visits from that business affected him.

"Like a political party?" Charles kind of disliked turning this into politics. But they had already turned it into a business proper, and all of them had stock wars and office politics anyway.

"Yes." Kaito was pretty sure he understood. English was odd to him and Japanese to the other members, who were trying to learn his language like he had to learn English for Yammagato, to communicate with Kenton Tech.

"And our platform?" Charles took that way too literal, but it was true. You had to stand for something or there was no group.

"Up to you. You're the thinker." Kaito tried to push him with those words.

"But you're the leader" Charles insisted. Kaito was silent. He was their de facto leader. Of the two, at least. Calm, fairly powerful in both senses, leadership qualities were everywhere. But that meant little to him in terms of creating a vision for anything but a business. Apparently, he was expecting what came next.

"Ok…how about…fairly lassez-faire in terms of our business co-operation, non-illegal modus operendi…" Charles spoke, a master of French and occasional Latin and Greek, Charles was all too cultured. He could also almost see the smile at that second term on Kaito's face. "…And caring of others and prevention of threats above scientific, financial, and other gains."

"Agreed. We'll call it the Deveaux Society. Because a group is defined by their spokesperson as much as their leader." In an obvious stretch of imagination and creativity for the facts-and-figures upright man of honor, the conversation wound down.

"Alright then." Charles hung up. He felt more relaxed and assured already. Everything would be fine, for little Nathan, little Simone. All their kids. Angela would see the error of her ways by following Monroe. All of it would work out fine.

All was not well. Strife had stricken the next board meeting. The newly named 'Linderman Group' in a mockery of the Society, had argued over every issue opposite, and Victoria Pratt had not yet chosen sides, and was thus tossed about as if a rag doll for stepping aside.

Eventually, she regained composure and almost as if a other, hushed them all up. She stated she would remain neutral to moderate. The only issue she could solve by herself at the moment was one quickly resolved: Joab Flameworthy had recently compressed the air in a remote Nevada high school, obviously taunting them. She proposed the two enforcers of each side, Maury Parkman (who now controlled actions) and Harry Fletcher, would 'attend to the issue'.

Adam and Kaito agreed. And so this is why Hiro found himself in Carson City, where the two stepped off a plane. "So what do we do here?" Just the fact that Maury was trying to work with him suggested a difference between these two from the rest of the Company.

"I was thinking you read the minds of everyone in the city and pinpoint him." Both were blindly loyal and had likely come with a plan given to them by their leader. This, of course, wasn't it. It was merely a half-sarcastic, half-'could it really be that easy?' sort of question.

"Look, maybe our groups don't get along, but do we all have to argue? In all seriousness, I would if I could." Maury seemed tired from the plane ride, and all too ready to get this over with.

"Tough to love a guy abandoning his family." Harry didn't so much attack the poor guy as much as be offended by him in general. His Southern values and fiery temper just drew an instant dislike to the man, regardless of how humble they both were and how they both came from local service. They really were more alike then different.

"Alright, then, what do you suggest?" The words didn't pack as much of a punch as the normal way to say it. Maury had just obviously retreated into a sullen place, abandoning friendly for cordial.

"Well, we set up a beacon." Harry repeated the words of Kaito Nakamura.

"Like a fire that doesn't spread and the size of a high rise won't draw the wrong attention as well." Maury thought literally and used this to so half-sarcastic back at him.

"No, no. Something like...a notice fore a Jewish festival. He is anti-Semitic, right?" Harry knew it was dumb, but it was all he could think of. Kaito just said 'beacon'.

"I think he's more anti-us by now." Maury spoke grudgingly, picking up his bags as they went by.

"Well, then maybe we rent a building and label it as if it's an office of ours." Harry opened up the same idea, only from this angle.

"Remember, we go defensive this time. Regardless of my new extension of my ability." He managed to chew out the awkward sentence in seriousness. It would take awhile. But he would come.

Joab Flameworthy stepped into an office building. It had cubicles, it even had receptionists. The Company moved fast. But he could glide faster. Soon Courtney would regret finding other specials. He was meant for her, and as if killing that special boyfriend of hers wasn't enough, he now had to destroy her job, these people who wanted to kill him just as much as he wanted to kill them, they were threats to each other.

One of them had to go down, and if Joab Flameworthy had anything to say about it, it would be them. If Courtney didn't see his way by then…well, he regrettably had decided she would have to go as well. He slowly began to compress the air gathering it around him and thus decreasing it. The fakes that Maury and Harry had hired gasped, and then held their breath as if they had been ready.

You don't want to do that. STOP THE CHOKING. The command issued afterwards caused Joab, somehow, to stop. Joab thought of a response, unaware he was mentally communicating Who is this guy? 

_**Maury Parkman. And it's all over for you. **_Maury responded coldly. He could control the man, what could stop him?

Soon a ball of wind was hurtled 'in Maury's direction'. Mental speaking was as good as voice, and the instincts of Joab knocked Maury out. Harry then leapt out from behind Joab and hurtled flames at the villain.

In response, Joab threw up a sheet of air that would've been a shield. But air fuels fire, and though it didn't harm either of them, the fire soon became out of their control. Even as Harry applied himself to making it vanish, as the frantic part-timers flew out the back door, and as Joab withdrew the air, the, too, took their fight outdoors, in the parking lot.

"You won't want to use those flames out here, Harry. We'll all go down."

"I'm starting to think it might be worth it."

"Really? Worth it, to kill innocents too?"

The second Harry paused; Joab literally knocked the air out of him. Trying to stand, he feebly shot daggers of ice attained by Carlos at the man, who merely glided swiftly to avoid it. Joab shot a pellet of air that stunned him, and no longer did Harry have the strength to try telepathy Maury's way.

The thought he did manage to glean from Joab was merely humorous in it's vapid wording. He even chuckled at its cliché treatment Joab gave this phrase. _One down, elven to go._ And Harry embraced death, which would soon come, likely from the man's choking. He dedicated himself to the service of mankind twice, once in his inception as a firefighter, and the second as a member of the Society. And both times he knew death was near.

The last thought of the outside world pushed into his mind. _Here I come, Harry._

Because it was then Maury regained consciousness, and uttered a command. _**HALT. LAY DOWN, DO NOT MOVE.**_ Joab obeyed, and Maury gradually walked over, unafraid. Harry kept his eyes open, struggling to avoid unconsciousness.

"Well, Mr. Flameworthy. It's the end of the line." Maury shot the man in the leg. Ready to torture the man who'd frustrated them all.

"No…Maury…it's not ethical. Contain him. He could become an ally, with Courtney's help. Or at least…" Harry's argument lost itself, as he lay limp. Consciousness was in the mind, and so were Adam's regeneration and any other ability. But yet, regeneration worked less effectively on memory, insanity, and such. So Harry left the world for a few hours.

Maury was almost wondering at Fletcher's words. Maybe he should at least make the death quick. But Adam had ordered a slow death...he was vengeful, said it was only God-like….Adam had only encountered a few others that had given him so much trouble…but Maury would never live it down amongst the Society, especially Courtney.

And, unexpectedly, Joab gagged. The man, ironically, was choking, struggling for air to breathe. Or was it so ironic? Hiro and Maury doubted it, given the man's words. "You'll never…get an ally…information…or the satisfaction of my screams." And the man's head went deadweight, his head falling to the pavement.

The crack of blood that fell killed him almost as fast as the lack of oxygen.

The debate was over. The problem resolved. All of the sudden, the arguments were now more polite, or at least civil. Maury Parkman had lied. To Fletcher and the Society, saying he had killed him point-blank. And to the Group, saying it was a long death. Both sides were appeased.

THE COMPANY: ONE MONTH BEFORE THE DETAINMENT OF ADAM MONROE, ONE WEEK BEFORE THE VIRAL ATTEMPT AT RELEASE.

"He hasn't done anything rash!" Angela argued. Adam had been more adamant on heroes as God, and it was the fiercest argument yet.

"He thinks he's God, and goddamnit, he will do something!" Fletcher outburst, his first in a while. Controlling his emotions had coupled with control of the numerous powers he had now.

"Hold your tongue, Harry. Like it or not, Ms. Petrelli does have a point." Kaito begrudgingly admitted. He respected her, he just didn't agree with her. Linderman too. It was Monroe he flat-out hated.

"You are correct. I propose we do nothing. Contain him at the very most, if does do something." Angela looked like the child who had gotten her way, a high school queen bee about to order the cliques about their business.

"You two…are still at odds. Nothing's changed, nothing!" A maddening outburst rang out from the table's end, where Victoria normally faced the now-absent Adam, who was on vacation with his wife Trina.

THE FAFTEFUL MEETING, PRONOUNCING THE DETAINING OF ADAM MONROE

"Well, how's that for rash, Angela?" Charles retorted. Leave it to him to have each transcript like a play, and memorize all it's lines.

"It is rash, indeed. Must we kill him, though?" Angela thought he had some good ideas, just not this virus. And the experience and knowledge Adam had could be useful.

"Can we kill him?" Bob Bishop was one of the few who had slightly swayed from Maury, Daniel, and Angela's steadfast discipleship.

"Oh, of course we can. Gramble's theory talked about weakness as well as cooperation and strengths…" Courtney began.

"Gramble hasn't been around ever since the day on the rooftop." Dallas was neutral on this issue, like Bob, but showed no qualms about what he had done, though the Society held out hope she was merely unconscious, many believed her dead.

"Well then, let's just vote now." Victoria sternly, trying to battle her frustration and hurry this up before Adam arrived.

"All for nothing?" Angela, stubborn, raised her hand. Maury, blindly loyal, followed. Daniel Linderman almost did, but thought on it and morally decided to wait.

"All for detainment?" Now Daniel raised his hand, as did Bob, Dallas, and the rest. That is, except for Kaito and Charles, making the next part of the vote obvious.

"All for capital punishment?" The two thought Pandora's Box a fate worse then hell, likely why the Society was voting for it. The Group voted for it because it kept Adam alive. But morally, the two thought in their brightest of hearts that no one deserved that torture. They had never put any of the detainees that were in the Box there yet, and they wouldn't start now.

And they also, in their blackest of hearts, wanted the pleasure of killing him themselves.

Adam swiftly came in. They tensed, but Victoria, Kaito, and Daniel shook their heads no. It was not the time, not the place. It could only be done in Primatech. The one in Odessa, for certain…reasons. This had to be planned, as well. So they just sat there, rigid.

Hiro Nakamura took himself back to the present day. It was nighttime of the day that seemed so long ago, when he began his journey in time. He thought long, thought hard. He never really enjoyed that saying, but thinking became hard when you evidenced the rise of a generation of sinners. And had the chance, with your power, to change it.

Yea, even his dad. His dad had been justified in hating Adam, but was it morally right? Adam had deceived him, but his own intentions had been unhealthy? The two sides of the Company were always, as Victoria had said, at odds. However, they had not always been evil.

He spoke softly to himself. "I must make my choice. Now that I have saved the world, can I change it?"

_Next, on Heroes:_

_A conversation between Peter and Nathan:_

_Peter: Nathan, look. Matt's dead. I'm sorry. But it really doesn't matter._

_Nathan: That's awful cold of you, Pete._

_Peter: I can be hard when I need to._

_Another scene:_

_(Angela Petrelli, frightened): Oh…oh…_


	10. The Past That Haunts You

**Heroes Volume Three: Villains**

Chapter Nine: The Past That Haunts You

**Hello to all. I have been aware of my decline in spelling and some small continuity blips and will edit and expand all prior chapters by Chapter Ten. Thank you so much for reading, and please review!**

Peter Petrelli was floating on air. Well, really, it was more jettisoning himself along currents, trying to race his brother Nathan. It was almost innocent fun, until suddenly Nathan started lagging. Peter let his weight go limp and drifted alongside him, worried.

"You alright, Nate?" Peter had been a bit nervous about starting out so soon, fearing Nathan might still be healing, but he had been adamant.

"Yeah, Pete. Just a little…weak, but I'm good." Nathan's flight remained steady as they wisped along.

"So we can go straight to seeing Matt." Peter asked, almost wanting his brother to deny his health. Peter only knew how to care, sometimes. And Nathan wished they could move past this. He was just glad to be back.

"Yeah. And thanks." Nathan gave a small, sincere grin. He had never been emotional, always the one for actions louder than words. For a small smile rather then tears of passion or eloquent words.

"What was it like, being dead?" Peter asked, part in awe. It looked as if he was near tears with happiness that it had worked.

"I…don't know. It's like I forgot what it was like when I saw you…when I woke up." He recalled the date. "I don't even remember HOW I died." Even though he had been asleep, maybe that was another side effect.

"I do. It was a slit on your forehead." Peter tried to throw that image out of his head, and finally the significance of the truth that he had tried to hide in front of the villain, that Sylar was once again out there, a danger to all.

"You mean…" Nathan comprehended what was going on, for perhaps the first time since Kirby Plaza. And he managed to take it all in calmly, as a leader should. He had always lived up to expectations. No time to change now, in their brightest hour. Or was it, with Sylar back, their darkest? A time of much hope, but born out of the adversity that was to come.

"…Sylar's back. It shocked me, too. But the Company comes first. And if he attacks us, you and Matt'll be there, too. We'll win." Peter tried to retain the same composure, as his wobbly words became clear and concise as his confidence returned.

"Does he have my power?" Nathan wondered, then.

"God only knows." He had never really thought about that. How DID Sylar get powers from the dead? And what about when they came to life?

"True. I guess we should just stay focused." Ironic, coming from the man who had always had a plan. Had it been his? He thought to himself. _You never truly lived until you saved Peter, and denied Mom and Linderman. _

"Yeah, I have the address." Peter was supposed to have met Matt in New York right afterwards, and so he had it memorized by now.

"Let's go." Nathan almost went supersonic before peter stopped him with three words.

"Oh, and Nate?" Peter held out an outstretched arm as if to stop his brother physically.

"Pete?" He turned back, kind but slightly urgent.

"Good to have you back." Nathan only grinned at that, and zoomed off. Soon Peter was with him, and they were on their way. The Company's demise was within their grasp…and these two united brothers felt invincible.

Arriving at the apartment, the Petrelli brothers found nothing. Well, actually, no one. A damp spot lay on the floor. Peter noticed it, but paid it no mind. Mohinder's notes seemed orderly, and there was a sinister air about the place, but nothing of Matt's was there. And, come to think of it, not Molly's, either. Knocking on a neighbor's door, they received a vague response about his disappearance and the apparent vacancy.

"Hello. Sorry to bother you-" He was soon cut off.

"You're that guy who was going to be our Senator, right? Shame to hear about the divorce. I'm so sorry." The woman who answered looked to be in her mid-60's and all too happy to talk to someone.

"Yes, and it's important to New York I find out where Matt Parkman is." He said kindly but firmly.

"Oh, Officer Parkman? He was nice, too. I hadn't seen him in awhile. Moved out abruptly a few days ago." She remembered.

"Thank you." He flashed a trademark sincere smile that had won him half the votes, or the ones that Linderman hadn't rigged, at the very least.

Puzzling over this, Peter began to think. Why would Matt move? Mohinder, though working for the Company, couldn't be that dangerous. Mohinder himself was likely at the Mendez loft, now his lab. The only reason he could think of was….

A voice pierced his thoughts. "Pete, come here." Nathan gestured to the floor, where a strip of fabric lay near the damp spot. Molly must've spilled something.

"Not now, Nate. I'm trying to figure this out." Peter waved him off, trying to focus, yet failing.

"Pete, you need to see this." Holding it up, Peter barely glimpsed the significance of the small shred of clothing as he turned around. But he stepped closer; to make sure it was right. "Blood, Pete."

"Sylar." Peter spoke the word that had been on his mind. It was the only thing that could've made Matt leave. Instantly, he began thinking again. But found himself blocked by his emotion of frustration.

"Something happened here. I don't know what. But Matt's a cop. There's a clue somewhere, hidden where only an ally could find it" Nathan's good logic was reasonable, and the two brothers began to scour the apartment for anything else.

Absentmindedly, mind wandering as nothing became apparent, Peter drifted back to one of the last times he had stepped in this apartment. His eyes followed him, to the ceiling where he had found Mohinder.

There was something scrawled on the ceiling there. Hovering close to examine it, Peter read the message: _Peter. Mohinder and I decided it's not safe for Molly here. I've moved to…_ The second Peter was done with the address, he beckoned over to Nathan.

Forgetting about his power, Nathan rummaged for a chair or something and then saw Peter. They looked at each other, and then towards a window where they'd fly. It was broken. "If Sylar was here, and the window's broken…." Nathan mused, worried.

"We'll worry about Mohinder later. We need to find Matt." And off they flew.

At the new address, they found emptiness as well. Examining the counter while Nathan went off to try and garner information from a neighbor again, Peter found in the back corner of a counter a post-it left by Molly. _If you're looking for Matt and me, we're not here…I'm at _and the girl had left an address to Mohinder's lab.

Which was suspicious… he looked everywhere, even the fire escape. And then, in the alley below, he saw. "Nathan, come on. Let's go to the alley." He gently shut the door, but quickly and at a rapid walk, beckoning Nathan away from the neighbor.

Once down there, they could see. Two nearly parallel, precise lines of incision had scarred Matt's dried blood in a neat manner, as if someone took a very blood-colored marker and traced them. One was on the throat, the other on the brain.

"Sylar." Peter gritted as he looked in amazement at the work of the villain.

"Yes." Nathan looked pensive as he rose to ponder this. Saddened, too. His head snapped upward, suddenly, as if something had come to him, and the horizon held the answer to solve this man's death. Peter knew what he was thinking.

"Nathan, look. Matt's dead. I'm sorry. But it really doesn't matter." Peter also rose, facing Peter with an earnest fervor, pleading glance, and an almost animal desire to hunt down Sylar, all across his face to read. Peter was a book, and it was apparent a new chapter had come.

"That's awful cold of you, Pete." Nathan stepped back in shock.

" I can be hard when I need to. I have the same power, so it doesn't matter that Sylar killed him." He tried to let himself believe those words. He was just trying to move on, think of a new plan like Nathan used to. _Nathan also used be evil, or at least under the thumb of evil. Do you want that? I want to be a leader. _Peter fought himself.

"But the morality, the morality! You are kind and compassionate. He was a good man, and now, we can save him, with Claire's blood!" Nathan pleaded.

"We don't need to." Peter was able to remain stubborn as a rock. Matt Parkman had been a good companion, ally. BEEN one. He was dead. No need to play God. That's what caused the all-too-familiar villainy and mindset of Adam. One that was shockingly easy to follow, identify and believe. _Am I a villain or a hero? I'm a hero. _As if to convince himself, but the voice came back. _Many were at first. What will you become?_

"He's a human, Pete. Just like you and I." Nathan knew they were anything but human. But that was Peter's appeal. He was a man who connected well with people, not due to words and schemes like Nathan but by instinct…instinct that evolved into a wondrous ability. A dangerous one, too.

"So you're just going to use your daughter when her blood is needed!" Peter yelled. Just what Claire needed, more 'protectors'. More people who loved her but wound up doing her more harm then good.

"No! It's not like that at all." Nathan thought he had redeemed himself at the Plaza. And now the guilt that had made him a drunkard, the fear he had even that had not absolved anything, drove him to denial and to respond back with power and emotion. _I __**do**__ care._

"Talk to me again when you act like a father. I'm closer to her then you'll ever be." He meant to bite into Nathan, and turn this into an argument rather than his decision. At least that way one of them would win. Hopefully him.

He continued. "All she has is a memory of you saving me, years of neglect, and an angry confrontation. The only reason she cares…is because you saved ME. Is because you saved yourself from a wretched life. You had one shining moment in a life of shadows." Nathan nearly gasped at the accusations, and the fact

"Like it or not, Pete, I AM her father. And I'll prove it to you." Nathan stepped resolutely away from Peter. Having already used his telepathy, Peter didn't need to turn angry. Or it would be Maury Parkman's nightmarish prisons all over again. And if Pete wasn't going to care, he would. He wouldn't hurt his brother, or waste time arguing. _Like a t Kirby Plaza: Actions speak louder then words. I did more there for New York than any campaign speech._

"We don't understand how this works yet, Nate! You could be endangering her…" His words were spoke to empty air as Nathan jettisoned off, a rocket and almost faster then he had ever been.

Thoughts screamed at Peter and streamed across them like lightning. How could he have been so cold? Not cold, but…forceful. Menacing. At this rate, this generation would be another one conflicted. Another destructive plague, worse than the Shanti virus: a plague of violence. Now they knew about the last generation, it seems this generation was taking its form. And it looked like this generation was one of villains.

This next escape, if it happened, would be the last from Pandora's Box. Bob Bishop knew only two of the major twelve were left. Oddly enough they were the two he was most reluctant about letting escape. He was tempted to shut down the station again, right then and there. The other ten and four other specials had escaped already. They were down to 24 minor threats and the other two.

But the order came too late.

Both escapees were the other two of The Twelve. They had known of each other, battled against each other as many times as they had battled the Company itself, and like mercenaries, occasionally had fought together against the Company. But no doubt, they were villains. Except, of course, for Diane. She was lumped in with them back when they were The Eleven.

The Twelve was a name given them when the Warden first prioritized the top threats currently detained in the Box. There had been no changes since. A few broke out, but came back, dragged in usually by Harry or Maury. Sylar was about to make the list and bump Diane off, but when he killed Eden and broke out of Primatech, that was called off.

They were a man and woman, fleeing fast enough, miraculously, to make the forest far far away from the Box, separated by the immeasurable open field. The unimaginative Company, the name itself a testament to their lack of creativity, or at least business focus, might've given them the name 'The Two'.

The woman soon tripped, and fell. Moonlight caught her head, swollen, bleeding and bringing her almost to the point of blackout. The other man, Levi Corran, kept running. The woman soon healed. Miraculously. Levi shrugged. She'd keep up or fall behind. And even if she didn't have that power, he wouldn't care. He was evil, and he knew it.

But he took careful note, almost seeming caring as decided to jog back, he went to help her up and a gleam in his eye was more than moonlight. He didn't know her, so he didn't know her power. They met while operating separate escapes, and their ID's had been long discarded.

They circled back around to the cliff face, where the 'scout and retrieval' team likely wouldn't be, having known they escaped the only way possible: the field, and doubting they would risk the cliff.

"I guess this is goodbye." The woman said, straightening her hair and preparing to dive.

"What do you mean?" He feigned stupidity. He may not be too powerful, just have the **potential **to be. But he was no dummy, and yet he wanted her to think he hadn't seen her heal, as if she had tripped naturally and barely bruised. She had left that, to fool him too. He had a clever opponent, then.

"I can regenerate I'll dive, you'll have to risk running the gauntlet." She referred to the field. "So sorry." She sarcastically said, flashing him a sadistic yet sensual smile that had won many hearts and killed many more.

Levi merely caught her arm quickly. His power had nothing do with strength, but he was always athletic. Even for 48. "And I have intuitive aptitude…well, you could say that." The woman struggled pointlessly.

He used his power. Well, not his, but…the woman's eyes glazed. "Kill yourself." He repeated. It wasn't a persuasion/command power, some odd mix of telepathy and persuasion. To actually use the effects of or the other you had to focus rather hard. It was difficult and confusing power best described as hypnosis.

The woman having done so, Levi grabbed a sharp rock and bashed into her skull. "That's what I wanted." He said with near-lust. He did what he had to do, and soon, as he stepped back, apparently to admire his handiwork, he tripped on the rock he used to finish her. And fell. Off the cliff.

He hit the water and his lungs were nearly crushed. He wasn't ready. But he bobbed up, all right. "Nice." He admired his ingenuity to test this, and the power itself. He was invincible. And though he had the same weakness she now did, he knew it.

Nathan Petrelli landed swiftly on a street that had become an airstrip in the past week for three of the four existing fliers. Noah Bennet however obtained a small radar-like device. And was ready.

"Hello, Nathan." Noah had opened the door to stare into the last possible sight he expected. He tried to retain his composure. If Elle managed to see this, it'd be dangerous. Otherwise, he had few problems with the man, aside from abandoning, to some degree, Claire.

"Noah." Nathan nodded calmly.

"I prefer Mr. Bennett." He responded, firm despite the awkward situation. His frame filled the door as best he could as if a human shield around Claire.

"So I've heard." Nathan coolly responded.

"Why are you here? I don't suppose it's to thank your daughter." Noah responded sarcastically. Suspicious of his motives, those words only

"I've changed, and none of you can see that!" Nathan sharply exclaimed.

"None of you?" Bennett was slightly confused, but he was perceptive and got around to understanding fast. "Ah, Peter."

"Yes." Nathan hung his head, apologetic for the small explosion.

"Why do you need her?" Bennett gave a side-glance, suspicious.

"I don't." Nathan tried not to make that sound to cold, but convey that he wasn't going to 'use her'.

"Why are you here?" Bennett queried innocently, as though it seemed the same. It did, but it seemed different. That was the point. Interrogation was a part of the business he exceeded all other non-specials in.

"To thank her. To apologize officially. And to save Matt Parkman." Nathan laid the reasoning out, cards down, hoping Noah was a moral enough man, as he seemed to make a good decision. Or at least, the decision he wanted.

"I worked with him. And frankly, I don't mind." Noah was working on several fronts right now. Between he and Elle working on West, and trying to contact Haitian on an anti-Company agenda, and protecting Claire…he had to keep an eye out for more allies. Maybe, if he got another core group, he could rebel or at least of the independence he had in Odessa.

"Thank you." Nathan responded kindly.

"What's his blood type?" Noah asked, sincerely.

"What?" Nathan forced out, thrown off base. Noah saw he needed explanation. 

"Regenerates can only follow the laws of blood donation as normal. I believe that's yet another reason I was chosen to adopt her, we're the same. As her father," The words in Bennett's mouth seemed forced, lips tight. "…It was highly likely you were a match and you got lucky. It's not a terrible hindrance, it stills works for a good amount of people, but when you're trying to save someone..."

"…The risks you're willing to undergo aren't medical." He understood. You would do everything to rescue them, until it came to a risky type in the hands of medicine. It wasn't safe, too chancy. "So, with Adam…"

"No such luck there. He's an O- a universal donor. He can revive anyone. So, unless we capture him, that's a deficit." Noah sighed, realizing that this battle would be just as hard as the one with the company.

"How do you know this?" Nathan questioned, interested.

"The Company sent me a file when I joined up again. They didn't want me, ironically, abusing her ability."

"Anything else?" Nathan prodded, curious but not too pressing.

"The body has to be…a body, obviously. And the more decayed, the tougher it is. At an undetermined state, it's impossible." Noah Bennett's questions only multiplied, or were at least replaced, by the vague file, which was specific in some respects and not others.

"Will she ever run out?" Nathan expressed his concern in the tone of his voice.

"I don't know. I suppose if you drain her too fast, the blood cells couldn't replicate fast enough. That would be tough, though. The only other way."

"What about Peter?" Nathan asked hopefully. He was an empath; maybe his blood would work too. It be more convenient, and perhaps a different blood type.

"I doubt it would work, or as well at the least, but the Company never went there. Empaths are too great to waste on experimentation that could cause their demise." Bennett bitterly explained. He was disgusted at the pick-and-choose whims of the Company when it came to testing. Sure, they'd suck his daughter up and even test Elle, but when it was a person with great power…excuse him, a weapon…it left a vitriolic taste in his mouth.

"Thank you." He offered feebly.

"Well, we both love Claire." An odd thing to say, but that really was why he was doing it. The other motive was barely even a motive at all.

"Yes, we do." Silence erupted; if that was possible as a less emotionally charge standstill ensued in the men's gazes. Nathan trying to get by, Noah not sure whether to let him up, for fear of hurting Claire emotionally. Waiting for him to at least say the word sot show he cared. "I'd like to say hi." Good enough, Bennett decided.

"I can't stop you." Bennett didn't even sound as if he wanted to. Encouraging, and wondering what Claire's reaction would be, he added as Nathan ascended the stairs. "Be careful."

"I will." Nathan didn't wish to anger yet another family member.

Angela hung up the phone. The news was shocking, but nothing new since the opening of the Box. And this one couldn't hurt her. Nonetheless, he heart skipped when her doorknob cranked open, steps behind her, as she hung up.

She responded to the unseen intruder. "I'm not afraid of you, Levi. You've only managed to kill one of us, and that was I. You can't kill me, because our powers cancel out." For indeed it was him.

Levi grinned as if that didn't matter. "But you forget about that poor little leech your husband nearly sucked dry in Pandora's Box to get you back." He goaded her on. She turned around, but calmly. He didn't expect her

"What of her?" Angela didn't particularly remember. She'd been dead. Oh, she was briefed on how afterwards, but she didn't care particularly for anyone. She had become detached, to all except the Company as a whole, and her family. Maybe Daniel. Maybe the Haitian. It was barely recognizable, this care. Certainly, it was not for strangers.

"Let's just say the person who helped me escape…isn't with me anymore."

"Oh…oh..." Was all she could utter in this state of…revelation. So that's who he escaped with. She feigned fear, even trembling.

"Yes, Angela Petrelli. You'll have a hard time of it, killing me. But for now, I just want to know: Has anyone surfaced...anyone delicious?" She shuddered at the though of that last phrase.

To help protect Peter and aid the Company, and save herself, she lies. She had planned for this rapidly in her head as soon as she was aware of his presence. "Only one. A man named Sylar. He's like you…except..."

"Except what, Angela?" She reverts to silence. It had worked. His interest was peaked. Even his hypnosis he got from her will do nothing.

"Fine, you won't tell me?" He angrily grabs her by the shoulders. Slamming her head repeatedly, she gives nothing up. Bloody and bruised, she caught his words as he left before she blacked out.

"I don't need to kill you, you're no use to me now if won't give me anything but that. I have your power, you have no founder but Bob left. Enjoy your life, I'll sure as hell enjoy mine." It was the day of Levi Corran.

Hours later, Peter Petrelli steps, distraught, into his mom's room to find her eyes fluttering, head barely visible behind unkempt, tussled hair and blood, at an odd angle, propped against the little ledge formed by the couch seat.

"Mom?" Peter actually cried. He had no reason to trust her, but that didn't mean he didn't love her. His previous state of unease and slight depression, his natural compassion, and the horrific sight, all spilled into the waterfall of his grief.

She gasped, struggling to give breath much less words. But Peter heard these words, it could be his mom's last. Probably not, but at this point, he couldn't tell. Between foggy mind clouded by precipitating tears and the blood that hid the extent of the wound…

"You…have a new ally son." She managed, collapsing once again. Peter cried.

Next, on Heroes:

Sylar: (in condescending, parental tone) "You were trying to take my abilities, weren't you?"

Levi: "I heard you could find Sylar."

Traveler: "Welcome…to Bhutan."


	11. Conclusion

Next, on Heroes:

**With my busy activity, and the coming of Season Three soon revealing spoilers and eventually disproving my work, I leave you with my story notes for upcoming chapters and an unfinished beginning to Chapter Ten of Volume Three. Look for another Heroes story from me sometime soon.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Ten: Showdowns and Secrets**

"I heard you could find Sylar." Levi Corran fumbled with the foreign word. He looked at the man who had contacted him suspiciously. This could be a Company set up, but he couldn't resist the thrill of finding another intuitive human…and killing him.

"I heard you have his ability." The man states just as aggressively. Obviously this was a meeting of necessity, not friendship. It could be mutual gain. Neither of the two were the type to work together. Levi would kill any boss, underling, or partner if they had a power he hadn't possessed. Peter Petrelli because that was who he was.

Levi redirected the focus. "What's yours? Or do you mind?" Levi flashed him a gleeful smirk, as if it would amuse him if he kept it secret.

Having been warned by Angela of this man's dangerous prospects, Peter cycles through his powers for his own safety. The man could still kill him, but as long as Peter kept his bag of tricks hidden, the more likely he'd escape alive, and with either Levi or Sylar dead. "I suppose, if we're working together. I'm a regenerate."

A safe bet, seeing as that was Levi's only power besides hypnosis. His mind was distracted throughout the following conversation, using hypnosis he got from his mom as subtly as he could to throw off Levi's advances without the man realizing Peter had more than one power.

"Interesting." Levi remarked casually, waiting for Peter to ask the inevitable follow-up or begin their pursuit of…Sylar, yes that was the man's name. The man who's many powers, once dead, would fuel his rise.

Not that he was brutal or mindless as a murderer. He was rather picky. He'd let heroes live, as long as he had their power already, or if they were an empath. He could care less about normal people. He was out for his benefit and his benefit only. Riches, women, and the like. As long as he was more powerful then any hero or normal man who would stop him, he was fine. He didn't need to rule the world. Just powerful enough to do it if he so willed.

This Sylar was apparently similar, only he wanted to be the pinnacle of all mankind, thin out his competition, and actually rule the-"And what can you do?" The question he expected came out of Peter Petrelli's mouth and the whisper bounced around the dark alley.

"Well, nothing important." Levi danced around the issue with unwavering nerves, obviously trying to hide his hypnosis from the man he thought knew nothing about it. The deadpan stare Peter answered with did not unnerve him.

Peter, remembering to act as if he were affected by that hypnosis, suddenly clothed his face with one of anxiousness, to move on. But it was a veil only. "So, what next?" He said, every inch the jumpy 'snitch' of a mob film.

"Tell me." Levi could've said it more than once, a normal person wouldn't tell. Peter, just to ensure he didn't fall completely under the man's control, counted but allowed his mind to dizzy at the words. "Where Sylar is."

Peter instantly knew. Somehow, he did. Then he remembered. Matt's daughter. Molly Walker. Trying to hide this power, he bowed his head as the image flashed in his retina. "1035 Sohalite Drive." Remembering to pretend how he knew, he continued. "I work nearby when I saw him rent the place. He killed my . I'll kill him for it."

Levi chuckled at the petty nature of these 'heroes' "Your name?"

"Kelvin Johnstone"

**Notes**

CHAPTER TEN: SHOWDOWNS AND SECRETS

Levi and Peter meet in an ally. "I heard you could find Sylar." "I heard you have his ability." "What's yours?" Peter picks one to stick with to not reveal his empathy. "

SUBPLOT – The Remnant (Diane/Claude/Nikki/Meredith) try to find Levi, but are halted by Carla Pyles, an escapee with the power of .

Micah's training in Bhutan. Hana tries to contact him, but Drucker intercepts and a few words are exchanged to the ends that both want to take down the Company, but except the Neuenberg incident, they disagree on how. They each blame each other for the failed attempt (Neuenberg) and Micah tries to mediate without success. The two cyberspace bodies cannot actually fight, so Hana flees.

They track down Sylar, and fight him. Sylar winds up lying limp. Peter instructs Levi. "Go to town." Levi whips out a knife, carves open Sylar's skull and looks at something inside, shocked. Unnaturally, Sylar's hands lift due to telekinesis, into his jacket, and pull something out, and he drinks it. Sylar's wound patches instantly, and his eyes awaken. "You were trying to take my abilities, weren't you?" In a condescending tone like a parent to a kid.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

Nikki, Claude, Diane and make their way to New York City, and encounter Elle and the Haitian before they can get to Levi or Sylar/Mohinder.

Hiro feels bad about torturing Adam, checks on the grave to find it empty. He and Adam square off at the end.

Nathan tries to retrieve Matt, is halted by Paula Gramble, who

Later

The Warden is a 'reverse Haitian', amplifies powers beyond the user's control, making many heroes wary of even attempting to use theirs.

Give Paula a power.

Levi's secret – eats even normal brains, and killed Harry Fletcher. When he did, the powers became too much for him, because his two ways of attaining powers conflicted. Every time he uses a power that came from killing Fletcher, he grows closer to death and his energy is drained. Also, a person with intuitive aptitude cannot eat the brain and attain the powers of another person w/aptitude, because it is the conscious person who allows the aptitude to work and re-form the DNA to different powers. As soon as they die or get close to it, the powers start to fade.

Restraints on Claire's blood: Nathan and Noah discuss Matt being used as a cure. Noah asks what blood type Matt is, Nathan looks confused. Noah states that Adam Monroe is an O- 'universal donor', therefore his blood can heal anyone, and however Claire is , which naturally is compatible with her father but not all heroes. Nathan must hurry to get a blood sample and find out if Matt's a match before the body decays. (Another restraint)

Restraints on Peter's mimicry:

Bob might turn someone to gold with his power

Sylar tries to get Molly's power to locate Claire/Peter, any other threats.

Explain about Arthur's death, Company's operations a year before Genesis. Called ONE YEAR EARLY find a way to work it into plot. Explain the disaster that leaves only Linderman and Bishop still in the Co. Angela goes back to being a homemaker, though still in contact with Linderman, as well as Arthur resuming his practice. Carlos Mendez moves to due to an argument with his more liberal artistic son, and entrusts fellow Society member Charles Deveaux to watch him. Sylar eventually kills him. Daniel Linderman hands day-to-day at the Company to Bob and focuses on his casinos and restaurants and private, general missions and goals. Maury Parkman decides to live a lazy life, abusing his powers to make a living, in an apartment, stating that the others 'lost their way' and Adam 'wouldn't be pleased'. Victoria Pratt ran away before the crisis and lives in hermitage. Paula Gramble dies a year after of a heart attack. Kaito had resigned a year before, but Yammagato stops supplying the Company afterward, as he is still in touch. The rest (except the detained Adam) die in the event. Find a suspenseful plot/reason for the episode.

Also, an AU future episode.

Drucker/Traveler is working with Meredith/Claude/Diane. Hana, however, thinks they are up to no good.


End file.
